Mean
by Solo Ensemble
Summary: A future fic looking at what would happen if Jason made good on his promise to stay away from Elizabeth and the boys. Lots of new characters are introduced, and the main character is Jake Webber/Jake Morgan.
1. Prologue Such Fragile Lives

**Note – **Thanks to **Mel**/LissieLove for letting me take some of her characters from Tangle. This is a future fic focusing mainly on Jake but also on Elizabeth and Jason and some other characters, and there's a lot you need to know. Visit my site, Solo Ensemble (link in my profile; registration is free, fast and easy, but if you don't get the activation email just start another account with another email address) and click the "Mean" forum under "Incomplete Liason Stories" to find the Cast List.

I'm leery of posting this fiction at a Liason board just because it's mainly about Jake, but a few people have specifically asked me to, so I am. This is a very angsty story, and I have to wonder if the angst will even be resolved in a matter that satisfies most of you. It's about resentment and hatred and insecurity; that's the best way I can describe it. And it's gritty. If you find you can't go on after reading a few chapters, I totally don't blame you. It'll be a frustrating, infuriating, disheartening ride.

Thank you to those who will choose to stick around. LOL!

**What You Need To Know:**

Cameron is two years younger than Michael.

Michael has been SORASed so that the shooting actually takes place when he's about five, Cameron's about three, and Jake's about one. He makes a full recovery, but Jason and Elizabeth never get over that and Sonny really tones down the scale of his mob organization as a result.

Morgan has been SORASed to be the same age as Jake and the two are best friends.

Johnny and Nadine's daughter Amalia is one year younger than Jake and part of his large circle of friends.

Spencer Cassidine is one year older than Jake and Morgan, neatly sandwiched between the two Webber boys, and is a part of their circle of friends.

Carly and Jax's daughter Cecily is one and a half years younger than Morgan and Jake (meaning that Carly married Jax right after Sonny, no Alcazar in the middle) and is best friends with Anna Drake.

Malcolm Drake is the same age as Morgan and Jake and his sister Anna Drake is one and a half years younger, around Cecily's age. Malcolm, while part of Morgan and Jake's little group, is particularly close with Spencer Cassidine.

Molly is Jake's age and best friends with Amalia Zacchara, and Kristina is Michael's age.

Sonny is single, no girlfriend in sight. He runs his business and continues to be an ass-head to Jason sometimes, but after Michael's near-death stopped hounding Jason about claiming Jake. He doesn't agree, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Jax and Carly are married with Michael and Morgan going back and forth between their mom and dad's houses, and they spoil Cecily rotten. Carly is particularly displeased with Cecily's romance with Malcolm Drake during her young adult years.

Patrick impregnated Robin the night of Georgie's funeral and the two got back together in time for Mal's birth and remain happily married, though gossip persists about Mal's conception, etc. After their son, they welcomed Anna Drake, and Robin is particularly displeased with Anna's romance with Morgan Corinthos during her young adult years. (HA!)

Nikolas is single and raising Spencer on his own. He has no plans to marry and does not entertain girlfriends, instead devoting all of his energy to his son, who is more than ready to accept his position as heir to the Cassidine empire.

Johnny and Nadine had only one child and are happily married and Johnny still runs his organization. Claudia is mostly located in Milan and runs her uncle Rudy's empire but occasionally comes to visit her brother and his family, Amalia being a particular favorite of hers.

Ric and Alexis divorced and the girls live with their mother. Kristina later becomes a lawyer like her mother at Alexis's pushing and prodding, but amusingly enough, decides to screw with her by becoming a mob mouthpiece for her father's organization, at that time in a period of transition as Morgan starts to take over. Molly is the wild child of the family and the apple of her father's eye.

Lucky is the police commissioner, still believed to be Jake's father, and has not been a huge presence in Jake and Cameron's lives mostly due to his job and family drama with the Spencer nutcases.

Jason broke off his engagement to Elizabeth and vowed never to be with her and the boys and has stayed true to that promise. He has not had any other romances since. After Michael's death, Sonny scaled down the organization and handed it over to Jason, who very slowly built it up as Morgan grew older, and eventually Sonny and Jason work together to help Morgan as he accepts the reins. Their friendship, though strained at times, has persisted over the years.

Elizabeth raises Cameron and Jake on her own as a single mother and a nurse at General Hospital. Her boys are her top priority and she remains very protective of them. She didn't remarry and she didn't have a serious boyfriend after she and Jason broke things off. It is her goal for both her boys to earn professional degrees and live safe, clean, happy lives. She is very close with Robin Drake and enjoys a civil coexistence with Carly Jacks, who finally came to agree that Jake was safer as a Spencer than a Morgan, and though she counts Nadine Zacchara as a close friend, she has always been secretly jealous of how Nadine and Johnny managed to love each other, get married, and raise their daughter together despite Johnny's occupation.

This story begins with Jason and Elizabeth breaking off their engagement and focuses mainly on Jake, who learns his true parentage at the age of six and comes to resent Jason deeply for it. Though Liason do have a story here, this tale mostly revolves around Jake and how their fateful decisions affected his life as he grows into manhood.

It might seem like a lot to digest (the above) but I'll be doing my best to write little reminders where they're pertinent, and I have no reason to believe that anyone will get lost.

**-Mean-**

**-Prologue-**

_When we live such fragile lives_

_It's the best way we survive_

-- "Dirty Little Secret," All-American Rejects

**.: April 2007 :.**

"So, just so I'm clear…" She wiped away a tear and turned around to face him. "You're choosing that life, the violence, over me and the boys."

The heartbreak in his eyes mirrored that in hers. His voice was gravelly when he spoke and Jason claimed one small step toward her. "No. I made the choice before I even met you. I've risked your life, and Jake's and Cam's, and…I refuse to be the reason that any of you die."

Her vision blurred again and Elizabeth covered her hand with her mouth. He was so sure, so determined, even while his heart was breaking, and there was no way to convince him not to do this. Her knees felt like they would give out underneath her at any minute, and she sank down on the couch, appearing to almost withdraw into herself. A good minute passed before she could speak.

"I've loved you longer than you've loved me," she admitted quietly, unable to look at him. "I've tried really hard to stop, but I can't. Even now."

She sniffled and rubbed the back of her hand against her nose. "You're right," she choked out. "You're right about everything. I can never risk my boys getting hurt like Michael. And I know – I know that I should be making this easier, because it's my choice, too."

Jason's expression was broken, his eyes glassy and pained. "I'm sorry."

Elizabeth looked up at him, tilting her chin just so. "I'm not."

She could tell her reply surprised him, and she rubbed her clammy palms on her knees before getting up and crossing the remainder of the living room over to him. "I have loved every minute that I've spent with you."

He closed his eyes when she cupped his cheek, tenderly brushing his hair back. "And our son. I thank God that we made him together. I don't – I don't want this to just be over."

Jason's eyes opened when her voice cracked.

"I-I just hope that somehow there's a way I can be with you again," she continued, choking on a sob. "I accept that you lead a dangerous life, and I accept that you should never step foot inside this house, nor be with my children, but I'm a different story. Why can't we just continue to meet at the safehouse?"

His eyes softened. "If you call, I'll meet you."

Her heart sank. It was just like what he told her six years ago, that he wouldn't come to her, but he wouldn't turn her away if she came to him. "But you're not going to call me."

Jason looked away, unable to bear her tears. "I couldn't ask you to take that chance."

Elizabeth let out a strangled scream and ran her hands through her hair. "God, Jason, why does it always have to be up to me?"

He took a cautious step toward her. "Because you're the one with everything to lose."

He let out a sigh, his touch feather-light as he combed his fingers through her hair and down the line of her cheek. "You – You know I love you. But before you call, you've got to think of Carly screaming for Michael."

Her mouth twisted at his stark words. "That's not fair!"

Jason averted his gaze again, visibly distressed. "I'm just trying to be honest. I want…I want you and Jake and Cam to have a …safe and amazing life. And in order for you to have that, I can't be a part of it."

His voice wavered on the last words, and Jason hesitantly lowered his face to hers and, sucking in a small breath, brushed his lips against hers. She opened up underneath him and the kiss became slow, heavy, anguished, and at the end reluctant. His mouth hovered over hers even after they'd broken apart, as if Jason was convincing himself to pull away and leave.

His rational side won out, as it always did, and Elizabeth closed her eyes tightly when she felt a light draft and knew that Jason was walking away, out of her house, out of her life.

"Jason."

His hand was on the knob and he turned, achingly slow. "Yeah?"

"Is…" She took a step forward and folded her arms tightly around her middle. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Jason let out a shuddering breath and dipped his head. "If you could…pray for Michael, I'd appreciate it."

Elizabeth nodded, dreading the metallic click of the knob. "Yeah, of course. The boys and I will pray for all of you."

He gave her one last look and pulled the door open, shutting it securely behind him. She stood rigidly in place until she heard his car start and pull out of the drive, and that was when it all came crashing down on her: it was the last time he'd be leaving her, and this time he wouldn't be back. Her legs gave way underneath her and Elizabeth sank down onto the couch once more, adding a silent prayer that she'd be able to get through this and be strong for her children.

_Five years pass…_

**.: 2012 :.**

The hinge on his door was starting to squeak, and Cameron looked up at the tell-tale sound to see his six-year-old brother standing in the threshold. With a gruff sigh of frustration, he slid the floorboard back into place and walked over to him.

Jake looked oddly troubled, but his expression didn't register with Cameron right away. "Hey, Cam…OW!"

Cameron watched grimly as Jake fell to his knees, rubbing the arm where he'd just been socked. "You found my secret stash of M&Ms and you took all the red ones!"

His little brother looked away, rubbing his arm, and Cameron's anger abated slightly when he saw his lower lip tremble. "Hey…I didn't hit you that hard. What're you crying for?"

"I'm not crying," Jake replied stubbornly, pushing himself up onto his feet. His hand remained on his arm, and now that they were almost at even height, Cameron could see the way his brother's eyes glistened. He sniffled and turned around, heading for the door. "Forget it."

"Wait," he called out, trotting toward the door when Jake didn't listen. Before he could leave, Cameron shut the door and positioned himself between it and his little brother. "You _are_ crying. Did I really do something to your arm? Don't tell Mom! I'll give you all my M&Ms, just don't tell Mom."

"It's not…" Jake rubbed his arm and glanced at the floorboard that hid his brother's candy stash. "How many more you got in there? No, no, never mind. I just…"

Cameron rolled his eyes and grabbed his brother's shoulder, steering him toward the bed and half-pushing him onto it. "Okay, either you did something even _worse_ to me than stealing my M&Ms and you're trying to confess, or you know something. Which one is it?"

Jake nibbled on his bottom lip as he stared up at his brother, who had his hands planted on his hips and was waiting rather impatiently for him to say something. "I, um, I heard something."

Cameron blinked. "Start the presses."

The little boy steeled his jaw and looked away. "I was at Morgan's and Mister C was there with Jason Morgan and Mister Spinelli was there, and Max was gonna walk me down to the lobby for Mom to pick me up. I left, but I came back because I forgot the Gameboy in the kitchen and I…I heard Jason and Mister Spinelli talking."

He looked up at his Cameron, his bright eyes laced with confusion and hurt. "They said that Jason was my dad."

Cameron's lips parted in surprise, and then he let out a snort. "You must have heard wrong. There's no way he's your dad – Dad's our dad."

"He's not your dad," Jake pointed out. "Not really."

"He's my dad because he says he is," he replied testily. "Zander Smith isn't really my father. Mom talked to us about this."

"They said…" He shifted on the bed, moving over when Cameron joined him. "They said how it felt weird sometimes that I spent so much time at Mister C's house because of Morgan, and Mister Spinelli said that I would be living across the hall in the other penthouse with you and Mom and Jason if…if Jason didn't lie about not being my dad. I…I don't know, Cam, they said a lot of things that sounded…that sounded like they could be real, you know?"

Cameron swallowed roughly. "There's – there's no way, Jake. Mom wouldn't lie about something like that."

"She would if Jason told her to." Jake licked his lips and stared down at his hands. "I mean, everyone knows what he does. Lots of people think he's scary. If he told Mom to do something, she'd probably do it. And if he's my dad…"

Cameron didn't have a reply for that.

They sat in silence for a long time, side by side on Cameron's race car bed, and finally, the older Webber boy broke the silence.

"They could be lying."

"They could be," Jake agreed, "...but it's kind of a dumb thing to lie about, isn't it? And Mrs. Jacks is always saying how he never lies...well, except probably for this lie, but you know what I mean."

"Not really."

"They could be lying," he repeated with a sigh, "but they could also be telling the truth."

"What are you going to do?"

Jake sighed heavily. "I guess…I'm going to find out the truth."


	2. Just 'Cause We're Young

**Note – **Here we go some more. We're going to have some 'kid' moments before we transition into teen, young adult, and then adult. All your questions about how Jake and Morgan can be friends, Lucky's presence, etc, will assuredly be answered.

**-Mean-**

**-1-**

_We'll scream loud at the top of our lungs_

_And they'll think it's just 'cause we're young_

_And we'll feel so alive._

-- "The Great Escape," Boys Like Girls

"You're sure?"

"I know what I heard," Jake repeated, looking back and forth between his best friend and his brother. "Your uncle and Mister Spinelli thought that I was gone and they were talking right in the next room. I heard them real clear."

Cameron sat back on his heels in the tree house, the boys' safe retreat. It had been built almost exactly one year ago by his dad, the Police Commissioner and Uncle Pat, and it was where he, Jake, and Morgan hung out. It helped that Morgan's step-dad's house was just one block away, so when he was staying with them he was over practically all the time.

He picked at a loose scraping and nibbled his lip just like his mother did. "Jake told me first, and I didn't believe him. But we've been talking about it, and we can't figure out why Spinelli and Jason would lie about this. I remember Jason from when I was little, and he used to be around a lot. He was there when our house burned down, and I remember him picking me up and hugging me and being really worried about Mom and Jake. I remember Mom bringing him to Gram Audrey's house when she was gonna have Jake, and I never really thought about it before but he used to always be around Mom and Jake and then one day he just…wasn't."

Morgan shook his head, staring down at the juice box in his hands without even seeing it. "I…I don't believe it."

Jake sighed impatiently. "Yeah, we've covered that. I didn't believe it at first, either, but I think he could be telling the truth. And then Cam told me that stuff about Jason always being around and then never being around, and…I don't know, I think he might be telling the truth. What if he's my dad?"

A strange light flickered and then grew in Morgan's hazel eyes. "Then you'd be like my cousin. Because my dad and Uncle Jason are like brothers, and Mom and Uncle Jason are the best friends in the world and…wow. We'd be almost related."

"That's not what matters right now," Cameron was quick to point out. "We have to figure out if this is the real deal or not."

"Do you think…" Jake licked his lips and folded his arms over the little crate they used as a makeshift table upon which to read comics and play pretend poker with Cam's M&Ms. "Do you think you could help us find out?"

Morgan's eyes glittered and a little smile made his lips curl, making him look just like his mother who was certainly no stranger to the scheme already taking shape in his head. "Count me in."

Cam let out a little sigh of relief. Morgan Corinthos would be a great source of information; between him and Jake, they had no contact with Jake's alleged family other than him. "Now, remember, you gotta play it cool. You gotta ask them without asking them, see?"

"I'll play it cool," he replied defensively. "No sweat. But…um, can I tell Michael? He's older than me and he remembers a lot more, and I bet if-"

"No," Cameron and Jake replied in unison.

"We have to keep this a secret," Jake insisted. "We can't let it get out. First, 'cause we might be wrong. And second…I don't want him to know that I know he's my dad. Not if he didn't want me to know."

"I just really think Michael could help us out," Morgan protested weakly. "I mean, yeah, he's kind of a jerk sometimes, but he and Uncle Jason are really close and this is really big. I mean, really, _really_ big. I think Michael could really help us out."

"Morgan, you have to promise not to tell him," Jake repeated firmly. "The less people that know about this, the better. It stays between you, me, and Cam."

The youngest Corinthos child sighed and reached for the rope ladder, untying it and letting it fall to the ground below. "Okay, fine. I won't say anything."

* * *

"Morgan! That is _enough_!"

"What?" he protested, frowning at his mother as she planted her hands on her hips. "I wasn't doing nothing. I was just asking Jason a question."

"There are questions like 'how are you' and 'what's for dinner,' and then there are personal questions," Carly told him as Jason stood behind her. They were in the Jacks' living room and since Jason was visiting, Morgan had seized the opportunity to ask him some questions that apparently his mother didn't approve of. "You're a whole lot younger than your Uncle Jason and as a rule, kids do not ask grown-ups those kinds of questions. Age twenty years, and then we'll talk about marriage and wanting to have kids and being a father. By that time, though, you'll probably be asking for yourself, not for Jason. Oh, God, I don't want to think about that."

He rolled his eyes as Carly flapped her hands and, grumbling under his breath, rudely snatched up his baseball glove from the coffee table right by where Jason was standing. "I still don't get what I did wrong. It was a simple question: I just wanted to know if he ever wanted kids like you and Dad and Jax. I didn't ask if he killed anyone."

His alternate question wasn't a much better one, given Jason's occupation, but Morgan didn't bother to stop and sort through the ramifications. He tucked his glove under his arm and frowned at his mother. "I'm going out."

"First, I want you to apologize to your uncle," Carly said, folding her arms over her chest the way she always did when one of her boys was giving her grief. Michael, who was lounging out in front of the television, was watching this scene keenly and even appeared slightly smug at the fact that for once, it wasn't him that his mother was reaming out.

"You do not leave this house until you look your uncle in the eyes and tell him that you're sorry for asking inappropriate questions and that you'll be more considerate in the future."

"But-"

Michael failed to hide a laugh and Carly stomped her foot. "Morgan!"

"Fine." He pursed his lips and met his uncle's solemn gaze. "I'm sorry I asked inappropriate questions…even though they weren't inappropriate."

Carly closed her eyes. "Just – just go. Go. Take Seth with you and be back for dinner."

The six-year-old tucked his glove firmly under his arm and, grabbing his baseball cap, turned hard on the heel of his little red sneakers and left the house, slamming the door behind him. Michael, one leg tossed over the arm of his chair, let out a low whistle.

"Kids these days."

Carly arched a brow at him. "Don't you have something productive to do? You've been watching television all day. Do I need to talk to Jax about hiring you a private tutor again?"

"Fine, fine." Michael tossed the remote onto the couch and got up, adjusting his shirt. "And for the record? I have no idea what's eating Morgan, and I didn't do it."

Jason contained a smirk, not ashamed to admit that he sometimes enjoyed watching the boys hassle Carly. She glared at him and set about straightening the magazines on the table that he had just disrupted with a wayward limb.

"No one said you did," she replied as he stepped into his sneakers and ran his hand through his hair until his appearance barely approached presentable. "But I would appreciate it if you would spend more time with him."

"Aw, Mom, come on-"

"Michael, I'm not going to argue with you. He's your little brother and he looks up to you, and one day you'll realize what a blessing he is. Obviously, something's going on with him and I think it would do him good to know that his big brother is there for him. Now go."

He grunted and grabbed the black baseball cap his father had gotten him when they went downstate and caught a Yankee's game the week before. "I don't know how you get away with this mom – we boys outnumber you in this house."

Carly smiled and picked up her daughter's Dora the Explorer lunchbox and tapped her nails against it. "And that alone should tell you something. Jax learned his lesson a long time ago, but for some reason, you and Morgan keep fighting it."

She winked as Michael pulled open the front door. "And just wait until CeeCee figures out that she can easily have you three guys wrapped around her finger."

Michael groaned good-naturedly and stepped out onto the patio, shutting the door softly behind him, and it was only when she saw her son amble down the sidewalk after his little brother that Carly let out a sigh of relief.

"Jason, I'm so sorry."

Her best friend, who had been standing rather stiffly behind her this whole time as she dealt with her boys, lowered himself slowly onto the couch. "It's okay."

"No, it's not." She took a seat next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. "I know it's not easy for you, especially since the boys became friends. I remember feeling so conflicted when Morgan came home from his first day at preschool, telling me that none of the kids would play with him because they knew who his dad was, and then one boy asked Morgan if he wanted to play with him. He had a shiny red fire truck and he let Morgan make the noises for it and Morgan had so much fun."

She smiled sadly and squeezed his arm. "I remember being so happy that some beautiful little boy out there made my son feel welcome, and then Morgan said that his name was Jake Webber, and it was like I just froze. Jax – He covered really well. He said he was glad Morgan had a friend, while I just _sat there._ I couldn't even…I mean, it was your son and mine, and they were friends."

Jason smiled softly. "Yeah."

"I know it's really hard for you, to see them together all the time." Carly rubbed his arm, knowing that there was nothing she could say to really make him feel better. Still, that had never stopped her before. "I just…I never had the heart to ask him to give up Jake."

Jason shook his head. "Good, 'cause you shouldn't. I-I'm glad that the two of them are close. Jake's…"

He bowed his head and twiddled his thumbs. "Jake's a good kid. Morgan should have a friend like him."

Carly withdrew her arm and clasped her hands between her knees. "…You know, they probably would have been best friends if you had decided to keep him. They would have grown up together anyway. And even now…they still found their way to each other. Funny how things work out, huh?"

"It's getting harder," he admitted. "It's getting harder over the years. Watching him grow up, watching him with Michael and Morgan, thinking about…"

"I know." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wishing there was some way to take away his pain. He and Elizabeth made their choice, and it was only after Michael caught a bullet in his head and lapsed into a coma for thirteen months that she truly understood and began to respect it. "But you can take some solace in the fact that he's growing up safe and happy, right? He doesn't have to have guards like Michael and Morgan. He walks with his brother to school, he plays in the park whenever he feels like it, he can do whatever he wants without being afraid. And that's what you've always wanted for him, isn't it?"

Jason managed a half-smile and nodded. "It makes it all worth it to know that he won't ever be in danger like that."

Carly patted his knee and stood when she heard Cecily clomping around upstairs. She'd probably gotten into her shoe closet and, knowing that girl, gone straight for the Jimmy Choos. "Listen, I'm sorry again about Morgan. I don't know what got into him. He had no business asking if you ever thought about having kids or wanted to settle down."

"It's okay," Jason told her, standing as well. He had a few business-related errands to run before turning in for the night, and he needed to get those taken care of. "He's a kid. They're curious. I know he didn't mean any harm, it just…winded me for a second."

"I'll have a talk with him," she promised, walking him to the door. "These past six years…they've been hard enough on you and Elizabeth already without Morgan adding on to it, even if he doesn't mean to."

Jason let out a sigh as she stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Tell the boys 'bye' for me."

"I will."

He pulled back and, flashing her one last half-smile, headed down the walkway to his bike. She stood barefoot, leaning against the door, as he started the motorcycle and revved the engine, and then followed him with her eyes as he took off down the block, heading in the direction of Elizabeth's house at the end of the street.

She knew that this time wouldn't be any different, and that he'd just drive right on past it.

* * *

"And then Mom started yelling at me," Morgan sulked. "I didn't even do anything."

Cameron let out an irritated sigh and went back to arranging his baseball cards on the floor of the tree house. He traded some with Mal earlier that morning and was quite pleased with his collection as it currently was. "I told you to play it cool, be real chill about it."

"I _was_," Morgan insisted. "Uncle Jason was over and I just…I just started talking. I was chill. I started talking about me and my friends and kids and then I asked him about whether or not he ever wanted a family or thought about having kids. You know, like my dad. He said that he and Mom really wanted to have me and they were so happy when I was born. And Mom and Jax really wanted to have CeeCee. I just asked him the same stuff."

Jake was nibbling his lip. "Did you find anything out?"

"Mom yelled at me to stop it before Uncle Jason could say anything."

"No, I mean…" He pushed his thick blonde hair out of his face. "What did he look like? Did he look like he was surprised, like he didn't know what you were talking about? Or was he surprised that you were asking about it?"

"Jake…"

"I want to know!" he burst out, glaring at his brother. "I really want to know what he looked like, what he was doing when Morgan asked him about that."

"I know that," Cameron told him quietly. "But I don't want you to get your hopes up. Honestly, what do you think is going to happen? That you'll find proof that Jason Morgan is your dad like he and Spinelli were saying, and that suddenly he'll admit it and tell everyone and he'll marry Mom and we'll all be a family? I just…look, I don't want you to get hurt. If he's really your dad, it doesn't change anything. He's not with us. He doesn't want to be. And you're going to be sad, and that'll suck."

Morgan crossed his legs and drummed his fingers on his knees. "I kinda agree with Cam, Jake. Should we even try to find more proof? Finding out for sure that Uncle Jason's your dad will just make you sad if he keeps on staying away and…Oh, no."

Unbeknownst to them, Michael Corinthos had climbed the rope ladder up to the tree house in Elizabeth Webber's back yard and was perched on the little stoop, eyeing all of them skeptically. He whisked his red hair out of his face and glared at each of them in turn, and all three boys cringed.

"Okay." He pushed himself to his feet and walked into the main room of the tree house, sitting down between Cameron and Morgan. "You guys are going to tell me everything, and you're going to start at the beginning."


	3. I'm Best With You

**Note – **This one had to be long. I had to get all the kids in there and show it getting bigger and bigger…so it got bigger and bigger. (That's what she said.) Also, obviously, these kids do not talk like normal 6 year olds. To tell the story, I couldn't really have them be stupid. :-P

**-Mean-**

**-2-**

_Someone to face the day with,_

_Make it through all the rest with._

_Someone I'll always laugh with;_

_Even at my worst, _

_I'm best with you, yeah._

-- "I'll Be There For You," The Rembrandts

Robin squinted against the early afternoon sun. "Who's that coming up the sidewalk?"

Elizabeth sat up in the rocking chair and followed her best friend's gaze. "That's…oh. That's Michael."

"Really?" She lifted her hand against the sun's bright rays and squinted. "You're right. I didn't even recognize him. He grew half a foot overnight. Shot up like a weed."

Elizabeth smiled softly. "Yeah, I know what you mean. They're all growing up so fast."

Her friend spotted the tall, barrel-chested man following the boy, wearing shades and a suit despite the warmth of the day, and darted a glance at Elizabeth. "He's got his guard with him. Should we give him the porch and go out back onto the deck?"

"I think we'd better," she murmured, setting her lemonade down on the table. "Let's say hi first. He's a nice guy; I always feel bad that he has to baby-sit the kids even though we're around."

"Michael's been coming over a lot lately," Robin mused, glancing to the other side of the street where her son Mal and Spencer were trying out their skateboards on the driveway Patrick recently paid to have redone. "I never used to see him hanging out with the boys and now…"

"Third time this week," Elizabeth replied, watching the boy thunder down the walk toward the house, his red hair flying. "And you're right. When Carly and Jax have their week with the boys, Morgan is over all the time. Or Jake goes over there. But Michael, he only comes around if Carly makes him pick Morgan up and walk him home. I think she worries that they're only two boys and they barely spend any time together."

"It can be difficult to get boys at that age to spend quality, brotherly time together," her friend allowed. "But I think she's worrying about nothing. They'll grow a little older, they'll find that they have a lot more in common than they thought, and they'll really start to enjoy having each other around. That's what's happening already, looks like. It's different with boys and girls – sometimes I worry about Mal and Anna not being close enough, but at least they're social. Anna's got Cecily to play with and Mal and Spencer are best friends. They spend enough time with Jake and Cameron, so there's that, too."

"Exactly, they have their own little group," Elizabeth reasoned. "And up until recently, Michael wasn't a part of it."

"What do you think the reason for that could be?"

"I have no idea," she murmured, standing as the guard and the boy neared. "Is it bad that having their bodyguards around my house freaks me out?"

"It's understandable," Robin assured her. "All things considered, I think it's a perfectly logical, understandable reaction."

"HiMrs.WebberHiMrs.Drake!" Michael waved as he ran, looking more as if he were having an arm spasm than being polite, and quickly undid the latch to the gate leading back behind the house.

Robin and Elizabeth smiled at the boy and then his guard. They said hello, exchanged pleasantries, and then the women drew into the house as the guard took his seat by the front door and emerged on the deck in time to see Michael disappear into the little tree house.

"They sure do like that place," Robin laughed, holding Elizabeth's drink along with hers as her friend arranged the deck chairs at the table. "It's a little hang-out for all the kids on the block."

"I'm so glad they have it," Elizabeth smiled. "Boys need a place that feels like their own. And I can always see them in there, keep an eye on them. Last night, Morgan and Michael slept over and the boys took their sleeping bags up there and spent the night."

"Mal was whining about it," Robin smirked. "He didn't understand why he had to go to his Uncle Mac's house for dinner when his friends were getting together here."

"You should have sent him over afterwards, he could have spent the night, too."

"He was too tired by the time we got home. Patrick had to carry him into the house."

"How's he doing?"

"Good, good. Skinning off 70 of his epidermis with that skateboard his dad just had to get him." She rolled her eyes and looked out over the yard and the other neighborhood behind it. "I was scared enough when Patrick and Lucky decided to make the tree house for them – all I could picture was the boys falling out and cracking their skulls."

"I'm glad they went through with it," Elizabeth admitted, "even when we tried to talk them out of it. The tree house is their boxcar."

Robin laughed aloud at the mention of the relic from their younger years. "Only better kept."

She shook her head as Elizabeth smiled. "Do you remember how Lucky and Patrick kept bickering when they were trying to put it up? I thought Patrick was going to punch him."

"Lucky wanted to rig it up to an electrical unit so that they could have lighting in there," Elizabeth snorted. "Yeah, great, the best way to start a fire. The whole thing is just tinder anyway. And remember how Patrick kept freaking out about messing up his hands?"

"He went home right after and covered them in lotion and put on his insulated gloves," Robin snickered. "Said that the next time Mal and his friends wanted something built, he'd pay someone to do it."

From their seats on the deck, they could see the boys clearly as they huddled around the makeshift table that had once been a crate of Corinthos-Morgan coffee that Morgan brought over as way of décor.

Robin tilted thoughtfully to the side. "What do you think they talk about in there?"

"I have no idea, but it must be important," Elizabeth smirked. "They're practically holding a convention in there."

* * *

"Jeez, Mike, we thought you'd never get here!"

"Sorry," he grunted, pulling himself up into the tree house. Jake wore an impatient frown while Cameron and Morgan were practically bouncing with energy and anticipation. "Glad you guys heard the signal to meet. I tried to come right after I gave it, but Mom saw me putting on my shoes and made me take out the trash and the recycling. I swear, it's like she has some kind of radar: _Son about to leave. Make him do stuff."_

Jake was in no mood for explanations and instead wanted answers. "Well? Did you find anything out?"

"I followed the exact plan I told you guys last night," he answered, accepting the juice box that Cameron handed him. Together, the boys gathered around their crate-table, a half-eaten box of crackers sitting in the middle. "Morgan got it all wrong – he was way too obvious about it."

"I was not!" the boy cried. "They had no idea what I was talking about."

"They would have if Mom let you flap your gums," his brother replied witheringly. "You were two seconds away from asking Jason why he didn't want Jake to be his son."

"Nuh-uh, I was gonna be sneaky about it."

"Mike, just say it already," Jake instructed, waving for Morgan to be quiet. "What'd you find out?"

"Well, I waited until Mom and Jax were having their second cup of coffee in the kitchen together," he started. "That's when they relax and talk about personal stuff, stuff that doesn't have to do with the Metrocourt or anything. I came in and pretended that I lost my lucky baseball and was looking for it. I said I wanted to come here and play show you guys how to throw really fast, the way Jason taught me. I said something about how he's really good at it, and then that Jake had a good arm, too, just like Jason."

The boy in question fidgeted self-consciously but didn't say anything.

"Then I asked Mom if Jake could come here, knowing she would say no 'cause she's having work done in the garden and on the lawn and she wouldn't want us running around on it. She said no and asked why I couldn't go over instead and I said something about how Jake and Cam never say anything about it, but I think seeing Seth and the other bodyguards freaks them out a little. Scares them, even though I know it doesn't, not really," he was quick to add when Cameron opened his mouth to protest.

"And then I was all, 'eh, doesn't matter, I'm going over there as soon as I find my ball,' and then I pretended like I was going out into the backyard to see if I left it there, but I stayed in the den and listened to them."

He rocked back on his heels looking extremely satisfied with his trickery. "It never fails. You don't have to sit there and interrogate parents – that's when they get defensive and start trying to distract you with other stuff, or they just tell you to knock it off. You just drop a few seeds and pretend you're over it, and then they start talking."

"So?" Jake leaned forward on the crate. "What'd you find out?"

"You guys were definitely on to something," Michael told them, serious now. Cameron nibbled his lip nervously, his sober brown eyes occasionally flicking toward his brother just to watch how he took the news. "From what Mom and Jax were saying – and they didn't get as into it as much as I hoped they would – Jason gave you up because of the business. You guys, um, you know about the business, right?"

"Your dad and your uncle 'sell coffee,'" Jake replied blandly, using air quotes for the last two words. "But they're really like the guys in the Godfather."

Cameron turned on him instantly. "When did you see the Godfather? Mom says we're not allowed."

"I was at Mal's and his dad was watching it," Jake replied. "I only caught five minutes once when I came to get Mal and again when we came inside to get something to drink. I saw one of the guys shooting at two men in a restaurant and then walking out, and then later I saw a bunch of men killing other men in, like, an elevator and a barber shop and one of those massage places. There was also a baby being baptized like I was when I was little."

Michael and Morgan exchanged uneasy glances, and the youngest Corinthos boy left it to the oldest one. "Yeah, that's pretty much what they do, more or less. They don't like to talk about it, and we don't ask."

Jake drummed his fingers on the crate, his expression visibly troubled. "So he…he gave me up? He really is my father, and he gave me up?"

Michael looked away but managed a curt nod. "Yeah, that was what it sounded like. They said that he and your mom were trying to figure things out and make it work so that you guys could all be together – Cam, too, Mom was really clear that Jason wanted Cam to be his son, too – but then, I, um, I…got shot and Jason gave you up."

He looked up guiltily and met Jake's stoic gaze. "I'm the reason that your mom and dad aren't together. It was because of me."

"You didn't ask to get shot," Cameron tossed in quickly, half because it was a valid point and half because he wanted to remind his brother of that. "I-I don't really know what happened, I was pretty little, but I remember Mom taking us home from the hospital and hugging me and Jake and saying that she was happy to be our mom and happy that we were with her. I didn't get it at all, but then I would hear her and Aunt Robin and Mrs. Zacchara talking about you at your hospital in New York and it just kind of fit."

"I got shot because of the business, because of who my father was," Michael stated clearly, this time not looking away from Jake. "And because of what happened, Jason walked away from you guys. I…I just think you should know that. And if you don't really want me to come over anymore, I get it."

Jake looked at his hands and finally shook his head. "No. It wasn't your fault. You don't control the choices he made. He wouldn't even listen to you if you tried to."

He slowly raised his gaze and regarded Michael seriously, and the oldest Corinthos boy would recall that moment several years later as the first time he really, truly accepted that this was his firm, stoic, rational uncle's son. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

* * *

"You told her?"

Cameron threw his hands up in the air, looking back and forth in disbelief between Jake and Amalia. "I can't believe you told her! You're the one that said we needed to keep it a secret!"

"Did you tell her because she's your _girlfriend_?" Morgan jeered, making five-year-old Amalia Rayleen Zacchara blush. "I bet she is."

"She's not my girlfriend," Jake responded hotly. "She's just a stupid – uh, she's just a girl and she's my friend. Not my girlfriend. And I had a reason for telling her."

Morgan shared a knowing look with Cameron as Michael regarded the situation gravely. "It's 'cause she's his girlfriend. _Jake and 'Malia, sittin' in a tree…_"

Michael rolled his eyes, unable to believe that a sophisticated ten-year old like him had to hang with a bunch of children. "Oh, for God's sake…"

"I had a reason for telling her," Jake insisted, giving Morgan a shot in the arm when he wouldn't stop his off-key warbling. "Swear, I did."

Cameron was apprehensive about this turn of events. "I don't know, Jake, on one hand you've been real smart about this, but on the other, this is just getting bigger and bigger. First you and me, then Morgan, then Mike by accident, now Amalia…"

Michael shrugged. "Personally, I don't care. It's his secret. He can decide who he trusts enough to tell. I'm just here to help you guys if I can."

Jake stood by his decision. "I told Amalia because she can help."

Morgan snorted and rocked back on his heels. "Please, like _she_ could actually do anything useful."

"I'm a lot more useful than I hear _you_ were," she shot back, arching a dark brow at him. "I hear you were two seconds away from writing _I know you're Jake's dad_ on the wall when your uncle was around."

The boy scowled at her and folded his arms over his chest, sulking. "Did not. Come on, Jake, why's she here?"

"Because she lives almost next door?" he tried to joke. It was the truth. After they had gotten married, Amalia's father bought a house right across the street from Elizabeth Webber. He knew that his wife and her fellow nurse were particularly close and Nadine liked having someone around who had recently gone through a pregnancy of her own. It had been their first child, and Johnny wanted someone around who supported his wife the way Elizabeth Webber always had.

"I told her because her dad knows my dad," Jake continued, serious this time. "They do business together. Plus, our moms were friends before we were born, Morgan, unlike your mom and my mom. If anyone would know stuff, it's Amalia."

"I do know stuff," the little brunette asserted primly. "I know a lot more than you were able to come up with."

"It's not a competition," Cameron was quick to remind them. The most sensible one in the group – quite a feat, given that Michael had two years on him – he was able to see this for what it was: yet another instance of Morgan and Amalia vying for Jake's attention. Those two were always at it when they felt threatened by each other in regard to his little brother. "Morgan's our guy on the inside, the closest link Jake has between him and his dad, and Lia, you're the wild card, the one that can get us information without anyone suspecting it."

"It's true," Michael agreed, earning a pained look from his little brother. "No one would figure that the Zacchara kid would be all up in this. So what do you know?"

"Well, I already told Jake this last night over the phone-"

"You two were on the phone?" This did not please Morgan. "Dumb girl – someone could have heard you."

"I was in my closet," she sneered back, "and so was Jake. No one heard us."

"Why didn't you just come over? You ever think about that?"

"Because we were at the big house last night and my parents didn't feel like driving out to this one." She glared at him again for good measure before continuing. "I was listening to my dad talk to my Aunt Claudia – she's the one in Italy – and he had her on speaker because he was looking through his papers."

"I remember your aunt," Michael murmured. "She used to really cause problems for my dad and Jason back when she was here. What does she have to do with anything?"

"Just listen," Jake instructed. "This is really…just listen."

"He was talking to her about business in Port Charles and one of the meetings he just had with Jason Morgan," the little girl continued, "and then my Aunt Claudia asked him, 'so, how's Morgan's kid doing?' like it was no big deal."

Cameron's lips parted in surprise. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Amalia affirmed. "And my dad totally went with it. He wasn't surprised or nothing."

"What'd he say in response?" Michael wanted to know.

"He said that Jake was just fine and that he and I were friends and we were over at each other's houses a lot," she answered, sneaking a superior look at Morgan. "Then Aunt Claudia asked if it seemed like Jason was getting any closer to letting the secret out and my dad said that he didn't think Jason ever would, and then my Aunt Claudia called Jason a bad word and laughed. That's all I heard."

"See?" Jake looked around at the boys. "Now do you see why I told her? She knows things."

Morgan stuck his tongue out at her.

"And now we know," he added, "that either Mister Zacchara found out about me being Jason's son and told Amalia's aunt, or that _she_ found out back when she was here, messing with your dad and Jason, and she told him. And if he knows and if her Aunt Claudia knows and they talk about it like it's no big thing, that means her mom probably knows, too."

"And either way, they've known for a while," Cameron murmured. "They've known for a while that you're really Jason's son."

* * *

Their little group was growing.

Jake was good friends with Malcolm Scorpio, who lived just a couple houses away, and since Mal's dad built the tree house in their yard, there was no way to ban Mal from it while their meetings were going on. So the first time that Mal poked his head in and was surprised to see not only Jake and Cam but Morgan, Amalia, _and_ Michael there, too, Jake caved and brought him up to speed.

And now, it was Mal who had given the signal and all the kids assembled in the tree house once more.

"We can't stay long," Michael was saying as he grabbed Amalia's hand and helped her up into the tree house. "Mom and Jax don't like us running around outside after dinner, even though we said we were just coming over here. What's up?"

"Mal's got something," Cameron told him, moving over so there would be room for everyone. "What is it?"

"I heard my mom and your mom talking on the phone a little while ago," he started, slightly out of breath from the way he ran lickety-split over to the Webber house and clambered up into their meeting place. "I think it must have been while you guys were outside and your mom was doing the dishes or something. One of their friends at the hospital got engaged or something, and my mom was calling your mom to let her know."

"So?"

"So my mom was in her study, and me and Anna aren't allowed in there," he explained. "She's got her medical books and her medicine and a bunch of other stuff in there, and my dad says it's off-limits. I was in the hall right outside and I heard her talking to Mrs. Webber. She had her on speaker because she was about to count her pills for the week, so I heard a little before my dad came by. They were talking about being engaged and your mom was saying something about how just because someone's engaged doesn't mean they'll actually get married. And she said that she and Jason were a good example: they got engaged, but they never got married and she hardly ever talks to him anymore since he said that he couldn't be with her and that he wouldn't try to see her again."

They sat in silence and digested this information. In the distance, Johnny could be heard yelling for his daughter to come back inside, it was too late to be playing and she had school tomorrow. His call went ignored and finally, Cameron broke the silence.

He let out a cluck of disbelief and shook his head. "I can't believe it. Mom and Jason would have been married by now, maybe even had another kid. We would have all been a family."

* * *

"But I wanna hear, too!"

Jake closed his eyes and growled. "Anna, how did you even know we were here?"

The youngest Drake child, a spitting image of her mother with her father's dimples and dark, unapologetically mischievous eyes, smirked at him as she sat cross-legged on the little perch by the rope ladder, refusing to move no matter how much her older brother and Morgan yelled.

"I heard Mal talking about it on the phone."

Cameron shook his head. "Technology. I knew it wasn't any good."

"Dumb kids," Michael grumbled, pulling his baseball cap low over his eyes.

Mal looked perilously close to hauling off and smacking his little sister. It'd earn him a spanking and two weeks' grounding, but right now, it seemed totally worth it. "Anna, get out of here. NOW!"

"But I wanna sit in on your secret meeting," she persisted. "I heard you say that Jake was Jason Morgan's son – that's such a good story!"

Cameron and Mal groaned in unison, well aware of Anna's penchant for stories and story-telling. "Anna, this isn't like one of the books Dad reads you at bedtime. This is real. And it's not a story! This is Jake's life."

"It's still a good story," she asserted.

"Anna, please," Amalia tried to coax her. "This is serious."

That earned her an indignant squawk from the almost-five-year-old. "I can be serious!"

Mal's lips settled into a tight line. "Get out of here _now_ or I'll throw you out myself. That rope ladder is a privilege, not the only way to go."

Anna's dark eyes narrowed and she defiantly crossed her arms over her chest. "If you make me go, I'll tell Mom and Dad and Mrs. Webber exactly what these meetings are about."

Morgan glared darkly at her. "You're the devil, you know that?"

"And you're a poodle-brain," Anna replied breezily, not looking particularly concerned one way or another. "So can I stay or what?"

Mal and Jake exchanged wary glances and finally, Jake sighed and nodded. "Yeah, you can stay."

"But on one condition," Morgan warned her, wagging a finger in her face. "You can't tell anyone about _anything_ that we say here. If any parent asks, you say that we made up a new game with marbles and that's what we play up here and sometimes we play cards with M&Ms. Those are the only two reasons so that our stories match. And if you mess up and spill the secret? You have to pluck your toenails off one by one and eat them."

"I can keep a secret," Anna insisted, clambering forward to join the group that had been given no choice but to initiate her. "I'm real good at keeping secrets. I never told any of you guys about the-"

She stopped and clamped her mouth shut, a small smile growing wide and smug across her lips. "Ha. You almost got me."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Okay, seriously-"

"And I also told CeeCee," Anna interrupted, smiling brightly when they all gaped at her. "She'll be here as soon as she finds her red shoes."

Morgan gaped at the girl. "Anna!"

"What?" she asked innocently. "You told me not to tell _after_ I told her."

* * *

Jake had given Mal the okay to tell his best friend Spencer, the quietest, shyest boy in their group, mainly because Spencer's dad and his mom were really, really good friends. And this time, it was Spencer that had come through for them.

Though he lived on Spoon Island, Nikolas had been anxious to find a better place to raise his son after the death of his fiancé. He purchased a house of his own not too far from the lake house where his aunt Alexis lived with her two daughters, and made sure to enroll Spencer in the elementary school so that, unlike Nikolas, he could socialize with other children his age. And Nikolas always made sure that Spencer had a way to get to his best friend's house whenever he wanted to, so relieved was he that his little boy actually had a shot at growing up normally.

Spencer had been at Mal's and Mal had given the signal, calling the kids to the tree house. Michael and Morgan were at their dad's house over on Harborview Drive, and so Spencer dialed up Michael's cell phone with his own and set it on speaker so the boys could hear what was going on.

"I talked to my dad," he started somberly as all eyes turned to him. "And-"

"_Spence, be louder,"_ Morgan said over the line. _"Mike and I can barely hear you."_

Jake set the cell phone down closer to Spencer and motioned for him to continue.

"I talked to my dad," the boy repeated, "about how me and Mal go over to Mrs. Webber's house sometimes and he started talking about how the two of them were best friends for most of their life. He even laughed and said that at one time, he wanted her to be his girlfriend."

Jake and Cameron exchanged skeptical looks, unable to picture their energetic mother with the dignified and reserved Prince Cassidine.

"I asked him when, and he said when he was about twenty," Spencer continued. "Then I asked him that I think Mrs. Webber's real nice and pretty, and why didn't he make her his girlfriend? Just to keep him talking, you know," he confided to Jake and Cam.

"And he said that at the time she was dating someone else, and he didn't like the guy she was dating and it made him fight with her a lot and there was a time when he thought she didn't want him to be her friend anymore because of a really bad fight that he and her and the guy she was dating got into, but then he was glad that she forgave him and even more glad when she stopped dating that guy…for a while."

Jake leaned forward, unable to take the anticipation. "And?"

"The guy she was dating when they were younger, the guy that my dad didn't like…" He looked around the circle, no stranger to dramatic pauses. "…Was Jason Morgan."

Anna and Cecily giggled, barely containing themselves with Mal and Cameron glared at them, and Michael let out a sigh that led them to think he wasn't particularly surprised and that the gang was eating up his cell phone minutes. Jake sat in silence for a minute before he looked out the tree house window and pulled a face.

"You know, I can't picture my mom and dad dating."

* * *

"Guess what?"

Michael Corinthos shook his head as his little brother bobbed up and down excitedly in the tree house, shrugging when he received a confused look from Cameron. "Don't ask me – he's jumpy about something and says he won't tell me until everyone's here. Says he knows stuff."

"Are Anna and CeeCee coming?"

Mal shook his head. "Mister Jacks just got CeeCee the new Barbie dream house, so Anna's been over at her house all day. I don't think anything could tear them away from it. Thank God."

Jake nodded and looked at Michael. "You got Spencer on?"

Michael nodded and set his phone down on the crate after hitting the button for speaker. "Give us a holler, Spence."

"_I'm here,"_ his cousin replied. _"I have a riding lesson in about ten minutes, though."_

"Morgan, hurry up and just say it."

"I found something out," he beamed at the group, making Amalia roll her eyes. "You all said I was too obvious and didn't know how to be chill, but I found something out."

"That's great, Morgan," Cameron said, mostly because no one else was willing to. Jake, in his impatience, looked like he wanted to tackle his best friend for the news. "What is it?"

"I saw Spinelli at Kelly's this morning and Mom and Jax said I could sit with him until our order arrived. Michael was with Dad, who was also there, so he didn't hear." He slid his brother a superior glance before continuing. "So I sat down with him and I asked him how he was, that kind of stuff, and then I started dropping hints."

"Like anvils, I bet," his older brother groused.

Morgan paused to glare at him. "I said that I was glad that I was old enough now for Mom and Jax to take me to Kelly's for breakfast sometimes on the weekends, and how everyone else brings their kids there. I said that Mister and Mrs. Drake bring Mal and sometimes Anna, and Mom and Jax bring me, and Prince Cassidine brings Spencer, and Dad brings me and Michael when we're with him since Harborview is so close, and that it's like all the parents like bringing their kids here."

"So?"

"And then I said that Mister and Mrs. Zacchara bring Amalia sometimes, and that so does Mrs. Webber, and that Uncle Jason's one of the few people that comes to Kelly's all the time but never has any kids with him."

Michael rolled his eyes and flopped over on his back. "Oh, jeez, Morgan…"

"Just listen," the boy hissed. "Spinelli got all sad and serious and said yeah, and he said that if Jason did have kids, he'd definitely bring them here because he's been going to Kelly's since he was young."

Michael waited, but that seemed to be it. "So?"

"So?" Morgan repeated, insulted. "What do you mean, so?"

"That doesn't mean anything. So what? Spinelli was being hyp – hyp – hypothetical. He didn't tell us anything clearly."

His little brother arched a brow. "Maybe, but when was the last time you saw Spinelli get sad? Or serious – about _anything_?"

Michael considered it, then looked over at Jake. "Actually, he's got a point."

* * *

"I told someone."

Cameron covered his face with his hands and groaned. "Another one?"

Jake watched suspiciously as Michael fidgeted. "Well, two people, actually."

"Two people?" This time, he was unable to keep quiet and Jake glared at his cousin. "What happened to trying to keep it a secret? Everyone knows now!"

"I had a good reason," he insisted. "And I thought long and hard about it before I told, and I only did it because I know they can help."

Cameron looked back and forth between his brother and Michael, hoping there was some way to diffuse the tension. "Okay, wait, let's hear him out. Who did you tell, Mike?"

"He told us," came a voice from the perch, and they all looked over to see Kristina Davis climb up before reaching down to help her sister Molly. "He didn't mean any harm by it, he just thought that we could help."

"And so do we," Molly affirmed, dusting off her hands and taking a seat between her cousins. "Kay and I know all about this daddy stuff."

Jake wasn't won over by this and continued to glare at Michael. "Fine. What now?"

"I think they had something to say," the older boy mumbled, gesturing weakly to the girls. "Go ahead."

"Look, Jake, I know this is all probably really hard for you, but my dad gave me up, too." Kristina swept her dark bangs out of her face and regarded him seriously as Molly took a sip from Spencer's juice box. "He didn't do it the way Jason did it. But he was never around when I was a baby. At first, he didn't even know because my mom didn't tell him. Afterwards, he'd come around sometimes and then I'd go a month before I saw him or heard his voice. And after a few years…I don't know, you just get used to it."

"I never even had him around to begin with," Jake replied stubbornly. "It's different."

"But you still wonder sometimes what it was about you that he didn't want to be with you?" Kristina's expression was sober as Jake's softened, and the boy looked away. "You still wonder what you can do to make him take notice and see how special you are and want to be with you? Yeah."

Michael shrugged. "Told you she could help."

"Me, too," Molly piped up, relinquishing Spencer's juice box only when it was empty. "I can help, too."

Cameron smiled kindly. "And how can you help?"

"My daddy's not around that much, either," she replied. "He works in the city, but he calls me a lot. But I heard him and my mom arguing once, and it was about your mom."

This piqued Jake's interest. "Yeah? What'd they say?"

"My mom said that my dad's always been in love with your mom, and that she was in love with Jason and that he never forgave her for it and she never wanted him around her or you guys," she related. "I don't think they know that Jason's your father, but we're not all that different. My daddy loved your mom and hated your dad, and Kay's daddy isn't around much, so I told her she gets to share mine."

Michael and Kristina smiled at that, and Kristina looked hesitantly at Jake. "Look, if you don't want us around, that's fine. Michael told us because he thought we could help and we'd be happy to, any way we can, if you ever need someone to talk to. And we're not going to say anything. There are tons of secrets in our family that can't get out, either."

Jake managed a half-smile. "No, it's okay, you guys can stay. And, uh…thanks. Thanks."

* * *

Michael grunted as he pulled himself up into the tree house. The rest of the group was waiting and wanted to know what they'd been summoned for. "Guys? We've gotta knock it off."

Jake blinked. "What? What are you talking about?"

"We're all asking too many questions, and we're giving ourselves away," he informed them seriously. "We gotta ease up on the Jason-and-Jake thing. Now."

Molly and Amalia frowned at each other, and even Anna and Cecily looked up from their dolls. "We didn't say anything, Mike."

"I know you didn't," he told his sister. "You've been real good and just listened this whole time. I'm not talking to you guys, I'm talking to Jake and Cam and Mal and Spence and Amalia and Kay. We have to knock it off."

"What's going on?" Cameron wanted to know. "Did something happen?"

"My mom just got back from Mrs. Drake's house," he said, "and your mom and Mrs. Zacchara were there, too, and so was Prince Cassidine. I heard her telling Jax. They were talking about how all of us are asking a lot of questions about Jason and Mrs. Webber. We need to ease up or else there's a good chance they'll find out."

Jake nodded in agreement. "He's right. If they're talking about it, then it's serious. I mean, when was the last time Mrs. Jacks and Aunt Robin were in the same room together and not being mean to each other?"

"Good point," Mal agreed, having seen the antagonism between his mom and Morgan's first hand. "I'm not going to say another thing."

"Me, neither," Michael said, "and Morgan, too."

"I'm out," Spencer spoke up. "I'll keep it quiet."

"I will, too," Amalia promised.

"We never said anything," Anna pointed out, referring to herself and CeeCee, "but we won't tell. It's kind of fun to have a big secret from the grown-ups."

"Our lips are sealed," Molly chimed in. "Kay and I definitely know better than to say anything."

"Then it's settled," Cameron announced, looking around at the group. "No more bugging our parents or Spinelli or anyone else that might know."

"We already know all we need," Jake sighed, brushing his hair out of his face. "My mom and Jason used to date, and then they broke up, and then they got together and had me but kept it a secret. They would have gotten married but then Jason told her he couldn't see her or me or Cam again, and he said that Pop should be our dad from now on, and we know that he's probably not going to say anything and just let me think I'm half a Spencer. My mom wanted to be a family with him and he left her alone. And us. And that's how he wants it."

It was blunt and stark and made Cameron wince, but there was nothing in there that any of them could deny.

Jake sucked in a deep breath and leaned on the crate, perfectly serious. "So we make a pact. No one says anything about how we know that Jason is my dad. We say _nothing_. It stays between us, and no one else will ever know."

Cameron was the first to put his hand in the circle, followed immediately by Morgan, Amalia and Michael. "Agreed."

"In." Kristina and Molly added their hands, as did Spencer and Mal. Anna and Cecily set down their dolls and squeezed into the circle to do the same.

"We're the only ones that will ever know," Anna sighed dreamily. "And that's the end of the story."

* * *

"Thanks for coming, guys." Elizabeth ran her hand through little Mal Scorpio's silky hair as he breezed on out the door before bending down to adjust the strap of Cecily's shoe so she wouldn't step right out of it. "Spencer, honey, don't forget your sweater. It's on the couch. Michael, take Cecily's hand. And walk Amalia across the street first, would you? I don't want her crossing by herself. Malcolm Drake, don't you dare try to leave your sister behind. Bye, kids. Say hi to your parents for me."

Jake moved to her side and together they watched the children return to their respective houses. Michael, Morgan, Cecily, and their bodyguard walked Amalia to the Zacchara residence before heading over to the Jacks' house, and Anna walked between Mal and Spencer on her way back to the Drakes.' Kristina and Molly followed them, knowing that their mom would pick them up from there.

When she was sure that the kids would get back all right, Elizabeth shut the door and looked across the room at Cameron, who was taking his shoes off and adjusting his socks.

"Wow, are my boys popular or what?"

Her son gave her an impish grin and looked up from his feet. "It's not us, it's the tree house."

Elizabeth smiled and pushed a hand against the door, making sure it was closed. "What do you guys talk about up in there, anyway?"

Cameron darted a quick glance at his brother and arched a brow playfully at his mom. "You grown-ups."

She laughed at that, and looked down in surprise when she felt a pair of thin arms wrap around her middle. Jake's face was pressed into the soft cotton of her shirt and he gripped her tightly. "Baby? What's wrong? What is it?"

"I love you, Mom," he got out, his voice muffled and sounding suspiciously thick.

Elizabeth smiled and smoothed her hand through his golden hair. "I love you, too, honey. So much."

She held out her other arm to Cameron, who kicked his shoes into the closet and padded over, snuggling up against her side. "I love both my boys. No matter what, I will always love you boys and be here for you whenever you need me."

Jake sighed and burrowed closer to her. "I know you'll be here, Mom."


	4. Something I've Not Seen

**Note **– A few more kiddie chapters…A lot of the chapters in this story are going to be short and punchy, and a few of them will be on the longer side. It's hard for me to get any consistent rhythm going, according to my outline, so I've decided to stop stressing about it.

**-Mean-**

**-3-**

_Could you show me, dear,_

_Something I've not seen?_

_Something infinitely interesting._

-- "Echo," Incubus

"He's gotten a little clingier than he normally is," Elizabeth said in a hushed voice as she and Nadine watched the kids play in the Zacchara yard with Amalia's new Irish Wolfhound puppy. At about four months, it was more than half the children's heights; in another four, it would be taller than them. But the breed was a particular favorite of Johnny's and he staunchly refused his wife's suggestions that they get a poodle or a tiny terrier.

Nadine sipped her herbal tea and watched the dog butt its head gently against Jake's chest. "In what way?"

"Well…" She tilted her head to the side. "It's hard to explain."

"Does he hold your hand more than he used to? Insist on sleeping with you at night more frequently?" Nadine tried to help. "Always try to get your attention? Monopolize the time you spend with him and Cam together?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's…it's really very hard to explain." Elizabeth tucked her hair behind her ear and gave it another shot. "He's very…It's almost like he's…He dotes on me. Does that make sense?"

Her choice of words made her old friend smile. "He _dotes_ on you? Okay, you're gonna have to explain."

Elizabeth laughed along with her. "Well, really, it's the strangest thing. Cameron and I argue all the time – he's got a stubborn streak in him, even though when he's good, he's really good. I used to attribute that stubbornness to Zander but when Jake clearly showed signs of it as well…"

Nadine laughed as her fellow nurse shrugged sheepishly. "Busted. By genetics."

"Something like that. I argue with Jake, too. He wants to do things his way, and it takes me forever to explain that sometimes he can't. We still argue, but it never gets as far as it used to sometimes. It's like he…I don't know, it's like he starts to raise his voice and then something clicks in his head and he forces himself to calm down. And he always apologizes after and gives me a big hug and says he's sorry he's so much trouble."

"Aw."

"I know, it's the sweetest thing, it makes me misty every time. I-"

Nadine sat up abruptly in her chair. "Cameron, if Kane nips at your fingers, tell him, 'Kane, no bite.' Don't let him keep doing it."

She sat back and turned to Elizabeth. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"I have no idea what brings it on," she admitted. "And he'll randomly come home with a few wildflowers he picked along the way – or from Carly's garden, which, let's face it, is an added bonus. Once he tried to make me hot chocolate on a cold day when we all came home, and even though he made a mess of things in the kitchen, I don't know…"

She nibbled on her lip and glanced at Nadine. "Weird, right? I mean, he slips his hand into mine when before he used to hate it when I took his – said it made him feel like a baby. He gives me a kiss every morning and every night. And he and Cameron made me a ton of gifts this past Mother's Day. Do you think something else is going on? Do you think I should be worried?"

"I wouldn't be," Nadine shrugged. "Because Amalia's gotten to be the same way. Not as far along as you say Jake is, but she's more affectionate than she was before. And she told me once recently that she was really glad that I was her mom."

This time it was Elizabeth's turn to smile. "_Aw_."

"And from what Robin says, I don't know, it might be a phase the kids are going through. She says that Mal will sometimes come up when she's reading on the couch with Patrick and just put his head in her lap and play his gameboy or whatever, just to be close to her. And Anna gives Patrick a kiss every night and she and her brother get along a little better. It's been about two weeks since he last made her cry. Honestly, if it's a phase they're going through? I'll take it."

Elizabeth smiled softly and wrapped her hands around the oversized mug in her lap. "…Either that, or they're just growing up."

* * *

Jake closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tightly around Lucky's neck as they stood at the front door. It was late afternoon, and Lucky had to take care of a few things before returning to work the following morning after a long weekend off.

"Thanks for taking us to the zoo, Pop."

Lucky smiled and exchanged glances with Elizabeth, who was standing right behind him. "You bet, son. I'm glad you had fun."

"Cameron, I want you and Jake to go upstairs and wash up," their mother broke in gently. "Jake, why don't you run yourself a bath? Cam, you can use the shower in my room. Get cleaned up, change, and we'll have dinner."

"Okay, Mom." Cameron swept his damp curls out of his forehead and looked up at his father. "Can you stay for dinner, Dad?"

"I'd love to, but I've got some work stuff to take care of," Lucky smiled apologetically. He had been promoted to being Police Commissioner a year ago when Mac Scorpio retired, and was still settling into the job. "Tell you what, if it's okay with your mom, I'll pick you boys up after school, say, tomorrow, and we'll get ice cream before I drop you off at home."

Elizabeth nodded as both boys turned eager eyes up to her. "That's absolutely fine with me. Go wash up, boys. Say goodbye to your father."

"Bye, Dad."

"Bye, Pop."

Lucky smiled as he watched the boys race up the stairs, then turned to Elizabeth. "They had a good time today. Jake has a souvenir for you in his backpack."

She chuckled and linked her fingers together. "Another plastic alligator?"

Lucky grinned back. "It's the only kind the Port Charles Zoo sells."

They stood in easy silence for a minute in the doorway before Elizabeth hesitantly spoke. "Can I ask you something? Do the boys seem…different to you at all?"

His frown was instant. "What do you mean? Is everything okay with them?"

"I just…It's been a while since you spent time with them last." She regretted the words when she saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes, but it was the truth. "Differences are just magnified over time, I guess. I was wondering if anything was different about them – anything you noticed."

Lucky slipped his hands into his pockets and thought about it. "…Honestly? I haven't noticed anything. Cam's the same, just as curious and eager to learn as ever. Jake's just as…well, no, I guess that's not true."

Her brows lifted. "What?"

"Well…" He scratched the back of his neck. "I was going to say that he's as animated as he ever was, but I almost feel like he's gotten a little quieter. A little more reserved."

Elizabeth let out a little breath. "So you've noticed it, too."

"And…" He bit his lips and his eyes narrowed curiously. "Is there a reason that he's started calling me Pop now instead of Dad, like he used to?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. We did see a movie on TV not too long ago where the kids called their father 'Pop;' maybe he thought it was cool and decided to imitate it."

"Yeah, I guess." He shuffled his feet on the mat. "Well…that's about it. You really noticed something? With them, I mean?"

Elizabeth smiled weakly. "I'm thinking it's just a phase."

That got a grin out of him. "Yeah, it probably is. Lord knows I went through enough of them at their age."

She nodded and let her hand fall on the knob. "Have a good night, Lucky."

"You, too," he called out amiably enough. "Thanks for letting me take the boys tomorrow."

"Why shouldn't you?" she half-murmured, causing him to look over his shoulder. "You're their father."

They shared a knowing look before Lucky nodded once and ambled down the walkway to his car.

* * *

Nadine Zacchara smiled when she felt her husband's arms wrap around her middle. "Hey, you."

He kissed her neck and looked out over the backyard with her. The landscaping crew had just come and pruned and weeded everything in sight, and Kane was nibbling on the freshly cut, fragrant grass. Goofy thing thought he was a cow. "Hey, yourself."

"I thought you had work," she murmured, letting his stubble rasp against her cheek. "Finish early?"

"Yup," Johnny replied proudly. "Got the whole afternoon to myself. Unless you have anything planned for me," he teased playfully.

Nadine laughed and turned in his arms. "Well, Amalia just called up some of the kids and asked them to come over – I figured it was okay since you were cooped up in your office. I can tell her to reschedule, or-"

"No, no need," Johnny scoffed. "The kids are free to come over here whenever they want. Hey, let's take them out. Maybe miniature golf, pizza afterward? Do kids still mini-golf?"

She laughed, safely wrapped up in his arms. "I think it's back in style now. They call it 'retro,' from what I hear."

He rolled his eyes at her teasing and looked out across the yard. "Let's do it. It's still early, plenty of light out. Who's coming?"

"Michael and Morgan, Cecily, Anna, Mal, Cameron, and Jake. Oh, and Molly Lansing, too."

That was a new name and the corner of Johnny's mouth twitched. "Ric Lansing's daughter?"

"That's the one," his wife affirmed.

"Does she normally hang out with them?"

"I think she and Amalia became friends fairly recently. Pretty good friends, actually. I think they made friendship bracelets the other day in school."

"Friendship bracelets," Johnny whistled, grunting when his wife poked him in the stomach. "Now that's serious. No Spencer this time?"

"No, he and Nikolas left this morning for Greece. They're not coming back til next week."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot." Nadine remained good friends with Nikolas over the years, and over time, Johnny found himself warming up to the man as well. There was a time when he was convinced that his wife was in love with him – this was while she was pregnant with Amalia – but once Nadine realized his suspicions, she was quick to set him straight. "When are they coming over?"

"Any minute now. You sure you wanna attempt to take the whole herd out? They might be a bit too much for you."

He smiled and let his hand wander lower, down to the small of her back and lower still. "Eh, that's what I've got you for…and an army of bodyguards."

Nadine laughed and reluctantly began to pull out of his embrace. "Okay, let's go call up their parents to make sure it's okay. You take Patrick and Elizabeth, I'll call Alexis and Carly."

"Good plan," he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. "The less I have to speak to that squawking harridan, the better."

"Alexis or Carly?"

Johnny grinned against her mouth. "Why can't it be both?"

Her chuckle was lost between them, and Nadine wrapped her arms around his neck and let him kiss her slowly, languidly, until he surprised her by gripping her waist and dipping her, causing her to hook her leg at his hip. She broke the kiss because she was laughing, and Johnny grinned and nuzzled her cheek.

He was still smiling when he righted her, and when they turned together to go into the house, they spotted Jake Webber in the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools at the island and staring wistfully in their direction.

Nadine blushed instinctively. "Jake – when did you get here?"

"Just a few minutes ago," he replied bashfully, seeing that he made them uncomfortable. "Sorry – I was thirsty and Amalia said I could get some water." He gestured to the almost empty glass in front of him. "Cam's on his way over. He didn't put away his laundry and Mom's not letting him leave until he does."

Johnny smiled and kept a hand on his wife's hip. "That's fine. If you want to play with Kane, he's out back."

Jake's eyes lit up and he hopped off the stool and raced past them out onto the back deck. "Do I! Can you tell Cam I'm back here?"

"Will do." Johnny watched him scamper over to the dog, who let out an excited bark and promptly forgot his vegetarian diet.

It was almost sad, the look on Jake's face as he watched him and Nadine earlier. Johnny never quite realized what it must be like for a boy to go through his young life without seeing something as simple as a kiss between his parents. Granted, his own father and mother were never much for PDAs, but Johnny knew firsthand how much Anthony loved Maria – mainly because that love translated proportionally into Anthony's hatred for him.

Nadine looked up at him when she heard him sigh. "What?"

Her husband was still watching the boy in the backyard. "…Do you ever think about setting Elizabeth up? I mean, she's young, she's pretty, she's nice, she has a steady career. Shouldn't she be out meeting people?"

She arched a brow at him. "What brings this on?"

"Nothing," he evaded. "It's just that, well, I have a friend coming up this weekend from the city. He's looking at real estate property in Port Charles – interested in getting a country estate up here, that sort of thing. He's divorced, no kids, very successful, a genuinely nice guy. Not a drinker, not a gambler, not even a smoker. He likes kids, too. Do you think…I mean, do you think it's worth a shot to introduce the two of them?"

Nadine let out a sigh and rested her head on his shoulder, watching Jake and Kane as well. Amalia came trotting up the hall, having found her shoes, and blew right past them on her way into the yard.

"…I think it's different for Elizabeth. I don't think she's ready to date yet."

"It's been five years since she and Jason broke off their engagement," he pointed out.

"True," she allowed, "but that doesn't mean she ever stopped loving him."

"But they can't be together." This argument always made him frustrated – particularly because it wasn't even about him and it still never failed to get a rise out of him. "They both agreed to keep Jake a secret and stop seeing each other. There's no going back on that. They have to accept that and move on, and part of that means meeting other people. Why should Elizabeth deprive herself of the chance to meet someone new, someone that might be good for her and make her happy, just because of the decision she and Jason made?"

"Because her heart still belongs to him," Nadine repeated firmly. "And there's also the matter of the boys."

"What about them? They're good kids."

"Elizabeth learned her lesson with Lucky. She's not going to let someone near the boys that might be here one day and not the next. If she dates, she doesn't bring the men home and she doesn't agree to spend the night at their place and most guys aren't patient enough to put up with that. She won't let anyone around her boys until she's 100 on them. And that means spending a lot of time with that guy and loving him, and that's something she's not ready to do yet."

"So she's effectively closing herself off from all future relationships." Johnny's lips tightened. He didn't agree at all with the decision that Jason Morgan made five years ago, but he and Claudia agreed to respect it and not use it to their advantage. Jake was an innocent in any way that mattered; he shouldn't have to pay for his dad's crimes, especially when that dad refused to claim him in the first place. "That's not good."

"But it's her choice," Nadine murmured. "It's just part and parcel of the big choice she and Jason made. Heck, she didn't even tell him he was Jake's father first. She let him think it was Lucky's. Then she told him when she thought they were going to die, and even after that, when everything changed, she stood by her initial decision and asked Jason to give him up. She didn't want the danger touching her boys even though she loved him. It's their decision, all of it."

His arms came to wrap around her as Johnny remembered the start of their own relationship. A night of hard drinking at Jake's, trying to forget Lulu Spencer, found him in the arms of one sweet nurse Nadine Crowell. They parted amiably enough the next morning, both agreeing not to make this one-time-event anything more than what it was, and never sought each other out afterward.

Except for that time three and a half months later when Nadine showed up on his doorstep at Crimson Manor to let him know that he was a father. He believed her immediately, even though she was more than ready to take a paternity test to ease his mind, because being the mother of his child wasn't the kind of thing most women would want to be honest about. They fell in love while she was pregnant with Amalia and he asked her to marry him, and she agreed and they spent the happiest five years of their lives together.

All because she trusted him to keep her and their child safe, and he vowed to give his life to keep his word that he would.

Nadine closed her eyes as his grip around her tightened and rested her head on his shoulder. "I know you're thinking about us, and how we were just like them in a way when we were expecting Amalia. But just try to remember, John: what's right for us isn't necessarily right for them, and vice versa."


	5. You Will Wait Too Long

**Note – **Thank you for reading and replying.

**-Mean-**

**-4-**

_Wait,_

_Wait til the sun shines through_

_Wait til the sky is blue_

_And you will wait too long;_

_He will be gone._

-- "Wait," Get Set Go

"Are you okay?"

Cameron glanced up from his homework at his brother, who was playing with his motorcycles on the floor nearby. Their mother was out in the driveway talking to Robin Drake, and they could see her through the open door.

"Yeah. Why?"

Jake lightly butted the motorcycle against a monster truck. "I don't know, you've been weird lately."

His brother frowned lightly. "No, I haven't."

"Have, too," Jake insisted. "You've been…quieter. Especially since we decided to keep our secret a secret. You just…haven't talked that much."

"It's not a normal secret," he murmured, scrubbing rather than rubbing the eraser on his answer sheet. "It's a big one."

"Yeah, but it doesn't really change anything."

That got his attention, and Cameron sat up and balked at his little brother. "Are you kidding? It changes _everything_."

Jake stopped the motorcycle halfway during its planned collision with the monster truck and looked up. "How?"

Cameron closed his eyes. While he was the first to admit that his brother could be pretty smart sometimes, it was still painfully obvious on occasion that Jake was just a little kid. "You know how."

"If I did, I wouldn't have asked," he pointed out.

The older boy let out a slow breath, relenting. Jake had him there. "Look, you're…you're the son of the most powerful guy in this town. Jason's – well, he's rich, he's important, people listen to him and do exactly what he tells them. And he's your dad."

Jake still wasn't following. "So?"

"_So_." Cameron shook his head in frustration. "Jason Morgan's your dad. And my dad…well, he's not alive anymore. And my official dad is a Police Commissioner. And you know what people say about the police in this town."

"Equal parts bumbling and corrupt," Jake recited without even having to think about it.

"Right. And now that you know Jason's your dad, you know you're a Morgan, you know that if he kept you, you'd end up being a part of his business. And you know that you're Michael's cousin and because of that, you're kinda like Morgan's cousin. And you're part Quartermaine, too. And I'm just…"

"Wait a second." Jake set down his trucks and stared at his brother. "That's what you're weird about?"

Cameron shrugged awkwardly. "It's _there_, you know?"

Jake closed his eyes, and in the distance they could hear Robin and Elizabeth laughing. "Cam. I meant what I said: Jason being my dad doesn't change anything. And it especially doesn't change anything between us."

"But-"

He huffed and, setting down his toys, crawled forward until he was at the coffee table where Cameron had his papers spread out. "No. It doesn't change anything – Jason's not with us, and he doesn't know we know. Mom doesn't know we know. And as for you and me – Cam, you'll always be my brother. Our fathers can't change that. They don't have anything to do with this."

"You might say that now," Cameron told him sagely, "and you might change your mind over time."

"I won't," he insisted stubbornly. "This thing – it won't change. It'll always stay this way, the way things are now. And it hasn't changed _me_."

Only it had changed him, in ways Jake was still too young to fully comprehend, and that change would be amplified over the years as the doubt and confusion took their toll on him.

"Just trust me," he told his big brother. "No matter what happens, it'll always be you, me and Mom. And it'll always be you and me."

They heard the door creak and saw their mother standing there, smiling. "Well, Jake, that's a very nice thing to say."

He gave her a small smile and turned back to his brother. "I mean it."

* * *

"Hey, Grampa?"

Noah Drake looked up from his newspaper as Mal trotted into the room. Patrick, who was sprawled out on the couch with a medical journal, also looked up when his son entered. "Yeah?"

"Can you help me with my music?"

"Your music?" Noah frowned until he remembered. "Oh, that's right, you've been taking guitar lessons these past few months."

"Uh-huh," Mal nodded. He was a preternaturally gifted musician from the start, and his talent had bloomed thanks to the private lessons Patrick and Robin signed him up for. "Dad says that you were pretty good at the guitar once, too."

"Pretty good at faking it," Patrick smirked, remembering his father's days posing as Eli Stone. The rush of pretending to perform inspired Noah, then in his late fifties, to start taking real music lessons. Over time, he'd gotten quite good and had been able to add the guitar and other string instruments to his pre-existing musical repertoire.

"You be quiet," Noah grumbled before turning back to his grandson. "Yeah, I'm okay on the axe. What do you need?"

"Could you accompany me on piano?"

"Piano?"

"Yeah." Mal brushed his brown hair out of his face. Robin recently started letting him pick out his own clothes and, by extension, choose his own hairstyle, and Mal gravitated toward the shaggy look. Probably because it made him look like a rock star. Noah, who kept his longer locks, liked the looks while Patrick, who still sported gelled-up spikes, had to disagree. "I want to see how I can play if I have to keep up with the band. I need someone to accompany me and I know you play piano."

"Doesn't Jake take lessons at the community center?" Patrick wanted to know. "Why don't you call him up? Let Dad relax a little."

"He takes lessons," Mal allowed, "and he's gotten pretty good, I guess."

"So why not text him and tell him to get over here?" his father repeated.

"Because it's different." The boy struggled to find the words to explain. "Like, Jake didn't start taking piano lessons for the music. He doesn't care about the music. He wanted to take piano lessons, first, because he sees Mister Zacchara playing a lot and thought it was sophisticated or whatever. And he does it so that he'll be able to say that he plays piano. He does it to prove himself. Do you know the first piece he tried to learn?"

"No."

"He picked a really hard jazz piece. I mean, he actually asked his teacher which jazz musician was really hard to learn, and then he picked an old Dizzy Gillespie piece and tried to play it. Took him a full month to get it right. He doesn't play music because he likes the music: he does it to prove to other people that he can do something really hard, that he's smart enough, talented enough, that he can do whatever he wants to do and do it real well. It's not about the music with him, it's about proving himself. That's it."

He lifted his fist in the air at Noah. "Not like us real rockers, right, Grampa?"

Noah grinned and set the paper down on the coffee table. "Not at all, kid. Come on, let's go to the music room. I'll play with you."

* * *

"You know what I think – OW!"

Jake rubbed his arm and glared sullenly up at his brother. "What was that for?"

"You stole my red M&Ms again!"

"So? No reason to hit me." He rubbed his arm again. "Besides, it's my birthday. You said you'd be nice to me today."

"I'm always nice to you," Cameron snipped, sitting down at his desk to put away his workbooks in his backpack for school the next day. "You're the little sneak that always takes my M&Ms."

Jake glared at the back of his brother's head and then flopped back on Cameron's bed. His brother had a normal one now, now that he was a big kid in fourth grade, and the racecar bed was now a hand-me-down and belonged to Jake.

He stared at the ceiling and held a toy motorcycle, shiny and new and still in its packaging, against his chest. It was a gift from his seventh birthday party earlier that afternoon, as well as the cause of much consternation for the boy.

"You know what I think?"

Cameron barely looked up as he checked his pencil bag to make sure his pencils were sharpened and ready for the exams he'd be taking during their last week of school before summer vacation. "What?"

"I think this motorcycle is a present from Jason."

That got his brother's attention. Cameron actually set down his pencil case and stared at the gift. "…Really?"

"Yup."

"How do you know?"

"Red M&Ms give me super smart powers. You should give me yours from now on."

He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Jake."

"Well, the wrapping paper was different."

"So? Mom wrapped each of her gifts for you and me in different paper."

"Right, but this one was wrapped up nicely." He said it perfectly innocently, as if he wasn't insulting his mother's wrapping skills. "You know how Mom does it. She wraps it fast and puts tape everywhere. This one was wrapped neatly and used only three pieces of tape."

"You pay a lot of attention to tape."

"I notice details," he half-groused. "And all of Mom's gifts had those little tiny cards that said 'Happy birthday Jake, Love, Mom' on them."

"I think that one had a little card, too."

"It did, but the card didn't say anything like that – it only said 'Jake' on it."

"…Maybe she forgot?"

"And only write 'Jake' when she wrote that long message on the others?" He cocked a brow at his brother. "I don't think so."

Cameron sighed and made his way over to the bed, sitting down next to him. "So you really think it's from Jason, huh?"

"I do," he nodded. "He drives a motorcycle, you know. I see him on it sometimes, around town. And did you notice, every single year, I get one motorcycle gift? Last year it was that shirt with the big black motorcycle on it, and those leather gloves? This year, it was a toy."

"Mom could have gotten it for you," he pointed out. "She knows you love bikes."

"But mom always gets me monster trucks." He turned the package over in his hands. "Almost like she knows that someone will get me a motorcycle and she doesn't want to double-up. No, I'm pretty sure that this is from Jason."

They both stared at the gift until Cameron broke the silence.

"So what are you going to do?"

Jake didn't look away from the shiny toy. "…Is it bad that I don't want it?"

His brother blinked in surprise. "You don't want it? But it's really cool. Look, it says it lights up and has sound effects."

"I don't want it," Jake repeated quietly. "I just…don't."

"But why not?"

"I feel like…I don't know, I feel like if I take it and if I play with it and I'm happy with it, it's like he's buying me off." He peered up at him for the first time. "Does that make sense?"

"Kind of," Cameron allowed. "But couldn't you play with it and kind of ignore that it's from him, so you won't feel like he's trying to buy you off? Like it's not like, sorry I don't want to see you, here's a bike."

"I don't think I can do that," Jake murmured. "…I don't think I even want to. I don't even want to look at it."

Cameron propped himself up on his elbow. "So what are you going to do with it?"

"…I think I'll hide it under my bed, then sneak it out into the trash."

"What if Mom finds it?"

"I'll tell her it's broke."

"But what if she takes it out and sees it's not?"

"I'll smash it before I throw it away." Jake turned the box over in his hands again and then held it out to his brother. "I mean, unless you want it. I wouldn't smash it if you wanted it. You can have it."

Cameron bit his lip uneasily. "But it's from your dad."

"He's not my dad," Jake grumbled half under his breath. "And if you want it, say so. Or I'm getting rid of it."

"I just…" He scratched the back of his neck. "Look, I just think that if you throw it away, there's a good chance that Mom will find out. And she might even be able to tell that you smashed it on your own, that it didn't break. And then she'll ask questions."

"I don't want it in my room," Jake replied stubbornly. "I don't want to see it, I don't want to know it's there."

"Then let me get rid of it for you," he offered, reaching out for the toy. "I'll make sure that Mom doesn't find it and if she does, she doesn't have to ask questions about it and that it doesn't come back to you. Let me get rid of it for you. I won't even tell you how, so you won't have to know."

Jake handed the bike over to him, barely even needing to think about it. He trusted his brother and knew that despite their bickering, Cameron would act in his best interest when it really mattered. "Fine. Take it. Throw it out, though. I don't want it in the house."

"I will," he promised, carefully crossing his fingers behind his back. "Is Mom still in the basement, doing the laundry?"

"Yeah."

"Great. I'll go get rid of it now. Also, I forgot to tell you, but Mal called earlier and wanted to know if you could come over. Said to bring your bat."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jake was up like a shot and hurried out of the room to retrieve his things. "Tell Mom I went over."

Cameron slid the bike under his bed and waited at the window until he saw Jake close the front door, his glove and his bat in hand, and race over to the Drake house. With his brother gone and his mother still in the basement, Cameron retrieved the toy and crept out into the hall. He took the stepstool from his mother's closet – she was short and needed it sometimes to get things from the top shelf – and placed it under the opening to the attic.

He climbed up carefully, hoping that he wouldn't be heard and that he wouldn't fall off, and managed to open the trap door. The ladder came down and Cameron tucked the box tightly under his arm and crawled up.

They didn't keep a whole lot up in their attic. Mostly, it was just old clothes and furniture – the odd lamp or two – and his mother's paintings from when she was young. Cameron moved silently across the giant room, making his way to the corner.

He found an empty cardboard box and put the gift in there, then closed the lid and turned the box over so that the top face was sealed. Satisfied with his work, he scurried over to the ladder, climbed down, pushed the door in place, and returned the stepladder to his mother's closet.

Dusting his hands, he made his way back to his room to finish packing up his book bag. He'd tell Jake that he tossed the thing right into the back of the garbage truck as it came around for Sunday evening pick-up.

* * *

"Absolutely not!"

"What do you mean, absolutely not?" Elizabeth planted her hands on her hips and glared up at her ex-husband. "If Morgan's having a sleep-over for the boys, then Jake should be able to go."

"It would be different if the sleep-over was at Carly and Jax's house," Lucky said, even though they both knew he was lying. "It'd be no problem. But it's at Sonny's."

"Morgan's his best friend, and this is their first sleep-over. These things are normal for boys their age."

"Absolutely not."

"Excuse me?" She arched a brow defiantly at him. "What makes you think that you can pass final ruling on this? I'm their mother."

"And I'm their father," he hissed. "And I don't want my son spending the night at a mobster's house. Those boys shouldn't even be friends in this first place. I thought this was the whole point of our decision – to keep Jake away from that crowd. And now you want him to spend the night over there? Unbelievable!"

"I want him to be a normal boy who spends time with his friends and does the normal things they do," Elizabeth got out through gritted teeth. "They're going to eat pizza, they're going to play video games, and they're going to fall asleep at three in the morning and then wake up and have ice cream for breakfast. That's what you do at sleep-overs."

Lucky wasn't budging. "No."

She tilted her chin in the air. "I'm going to call Sonny and tell him Jake would love to come, and that it's very nice of him to invite the boys."

Her ex let out a strangled growl. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Do _not_ use that language at me in my own home."

He backed off at that, but still seethed. "Do you remember how terrified you were when the truth about his paternity came out? How you were so afraid that Jason's enemies would take their revenge on him by using Jake? How you begged me not to say anything? What happened to that?"

"I still stand by it," she replied softly, and her lower lip trembled just slightly.

Lucky claimed a step toward her, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at him. "Then _why_ are you so eager to send him over to – to fucking Harborview Towers with its armed guards and its bullet-proof windows? If you were any kind of mother, you'd have nipped his friendship with Morgan in the bud!"

"If I was any kind of mother? That's rich, coming from you!" She glared at him in disbelief. "I'm sorry, when was the last time you spent any time with them? Oh, that's right, I forgot, it was weeks ago, when you took them to the zoo and arrived_ late_ and ran off as soon as you dropped them off!"

She took a step toward him, still glaring. "I am their _mother_, Lucky."

"And I-"

"And I am their primary caregiver," she continued. "They have my name, they live with me, I take care of daily expenses without even asking any child support _or_ alimony from you-"

He snorted. "Probably because Jason has a trust fund set up for you and the kids."

Her dark eyes glittered dangerously. "I have never taken a _cent_ from him. Or from you. I am their mother, and I will decide what they can and cannot do."

"But Morgan-"

"Is Jake's best friend." She swept her bangs behind her ear. "Do I wish sometimes that it was different? That he wasn't so close to a little boy who, through absolutely no fault of his own, can't go anywhere without an armed guard? That his other close friend is the daughter of a mafia lord? Yes, sometimes, I do."

Elizabeth looked down and away, shaking her head. "But Morgan's the first friend he made. They clicked from the moment they met in pre-school, and I'm not going to try to take my son's best friend away from him. He loves Morgan. He loves playing with him, he loves talking to Michael, he spends about as much time at Carly and Jax's as he does here. I'm not going to disrupt his life and take away his best friend for reasons that he can't even understand."

She shook her head firmly. "No. If Jake wants to go sleep-over at Sonny's, then I'm going to tell him that he's allowed to."

Lucky's eyes were cold and hard. "Even if Jason's right next door?"

Elizabeth swallowed roughly. "Jason has nothing to do with this anymore."

"Jason will _always_ have something to do with this," he snorted. "Don't tell me that you don't always think of him, that whenever you see me with the boys, you don't let yourself imagine all the ways that he'd be a better father to them."

"That's not fair-"

"I think part of you even wants this secret to come out," he hissed. "Because then nothing would stop you and your precious Jason from being together. You'd have the happy family you've always dreamed about – with him."

"I'm not going to have this discussion with you for the millionth time," she told him quietly. "It never goes anywhere, and I don't care what you think, anyway. You have input on their lives, but in the end, I'm their mother and they're my primary responsibility. I decide what's right for them."

Lucky snorted again. "That includes lying to your son about his real father, right? That's what's 'right' for him."

"Get out."

He glared at her and headed for the door. "Don't forget, I have them this Saturday."

"I never forget," she replied icily, watching as he yanked the door open and stepped outside. "And neither do they. But sometimes, you do."


	6. Thy Mother's Delight

**Note – **Thank you for the lovely replies. :) I am pleasantly surprised by how many people don't mind a truly depressing, angsty story at this time.

**-Mean-**

**-5-**

_Lullaby, _

_And good night,_

_Thy mother's delight._

_Bright angels_

_Beside my darling abide._

-- "Brahm's Lullaby"

"Anything I should know about, uh, allergies, bedtime rituals, nightmares, that sort of thing?"

It was a very strange thing for Sonny to be asking Jason as he stepped into the former mob lord's penthouse, but Jason had only to set foot inside the room to realize that the question was not directed at him…but the mother of his child.

Who was seated on Sonny's sofa.

With the aforementioned child.

Looking at him.

Jason stopped, his hand frozen on the doorknob. "Uh…"

"Jason." Sonny was on his feet instantly, smiling, but the welcoming grin was forced. He never really knew how to act around Jason anymore when Jake was mentioned, much less present; his own son's shooting and almost-death six years ago further complicated the situation and Sonny's feelings about it. So he settled on just trying to appear a little less awkward than he felt on the inside.

"Hey, come on in. You, uh, you know Jake, Morgan's friend, and Ms. Webber from the hospital."

Elizabeth reluctantly let her arm slide from her youngest son's shoulders and stood as well, fidgeting slightly. Unseen at her side, Jake rolled his eyes at the way Sonny introduced the boy's father to him and his mother. It was true, Jason and Elizabeth rarely crossed paths, much less in front of him, so he could see how Sonny felt he had to say it like that. "Hi. Jake, manners."

"Hello," he replied dutifully, if not sincerely. "It's good to see you again, Jason."

He felt just the smallest twinge of satisfaction when his father's brows shot up. It was the first time he'd called him by his first name; before he knew that his best friend's uncle was his father, Jake had always called him "Mister Morgan." No more.

His mother apparently didn't agree. "Jake! You don't address adults by their first-"

"It's fine," Jason interrupted, bobbing his head in an awkward nod. "He can call me Jason. It's fine."

Sonny shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not sure how to ease the awkwardness that permeated the room. So he set out to fill it up with aimless chatter instead. "Uh, Morgan's having his sleepover tonight. His first one. Carly and Jax would have hosted, but, er, they've got the girls coming over and you know how strict gender lines are at this age. So, yeah, that's what's, um, going on…here. Tonight. Now."

Ah. That explained what Jake was doing right across the hall. Jason knew from Carly's detailed account of Morgan's equally detailed account that the two of them had been best friends since pre-school. Thankfully, neither Carly nor Elizabeth had the heart to break up the potentially dangerous friendship between their boys and Morgan and Jake remained as close as ever.

And even though the friendship worried him at times, Jason was glad for it because he could always hope to see his son playing out back at Carly's, or watching TV on her sofa with his feet on the coffee table as if he belonged there. It wasn't perfect, but it was perfect enough.

Sonny was still chattering away, unfamiliar with his own unease. "The other kids should be here within the hour. I've got Max standing by to help, but I could use an extra pair of eyes and hands around here."

It was his attempt at a joke, but Jason barely smiled. He still hadn't managed to tear his eyes off his son, who was sitting quite contentedly on the couch next to his mother. Elizabeth was still standing, shifting her weight from foot to foot, and picking at her nails. It had been five years since they called off their engagement and vowed to stay away from each other, but they still didn't know how to behave when they were face-to-face. The room was too small, the air was too hot, their skin was just too tight.

Jason swallowed and dropped his keys on Sonny's desk, wincing at the metallic clatter that was just a little too loud. "So, uh, you're going to sleep over tonight, huh, Jake?"

The boy quirked a brow at him and smirked, looking so much like his mother that Jason's heart almost skipped a beat. "That would be the plan."

He wanted to tell Elizabeth to sit, to relax, but stopped himself. Clearing his throat, he crossed the room carefully and stiffly lowered himself into one of Sonny's overstuffed green armchairs. Elizabeth worried her lip and, seeing him sit, did the same herself with almost comic alacrity. Jake rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and casually rested his head against her forearm when his mother was next to him again. Jason rubbed his clammy palms on his jeans and waited for someone to speak.

His heart told him that it wasn't supposed to be this hard. This was the boy he'd loved since he found out about him. And here he was, sitting just a few feet away with the woman Jason had loved for most of his life as a Morgan. Yet he couldn't think, he could hardly move, he could barely speak. His brain chimed in with a reprimand, telling him that this was exactly how it was supposed to be: to the world, Jake was nothing more to him than some kid that his nephew was friends with. And his mother was nothing more than some PTA mom he hardly ever crossed paths with.

Sonny had been watching all of this from his seat across the room. Sitting in a matching armchair next to the couch Elizabeth occupied, one ankle resting on his other knee, the mob lord was concentrating very hard on appearing perfectly relaxed. He cleared his throat, abhorring the pressing silence, and grinned at Jake.

"So what do you guys have planned tonight?"

Jake hefted the dark blue backpack that sat by his feet. "Video games. Cam and I brought our controllers and Mike says that Mister Jax got him the new Mario Brothers game. You can make teams, you can hook it up to your Wi-Fi and have broadband access to gamers internationally…"

Sonny shared an amused, wry look with Elizabeth. "Kids these days – they're born knowing this stuff that I need Spinelli to translate for me."

She laughed weakly and brushed Jake's thick blonde hair away from his forehead. "Cam loved video games since Carly got him the Chuggin' Charlie learning tools game when he started kindergarten, and Jake got started on them because the boys do just about everything together. I can barely peel them away long enough for them to eat dinner."

"Oh, dinner, right, before I forget…" Sonny reached over to the coffee table and picked up a take-out menu. "I was going to order dinner for the kids from _Luna Mezzo Mare_. Here's their order options. If Jake's allergic to anything, or-"

"I'm not allergic to nothing," he piped up, looking over his mother's shoulder as she perused the menu. "And I like pepperoni."

"Good to know. Does that go for Cameron, too?"

Jake shook his head. "He'll eat pepperoni, but he likes green peppers. And the garlic sauce that you dip your crust into. I think crusts are gross, though – I always give him mine."

Sonny couldn't help but grin. "Hey, that's what big brothers are for, right?"

The boy grinned right back, this time looking so much like his father that the smile practically fell off Sonny's face before he remembered himself. "Uh-huh. He always eats my crust, and he sometimes gives me his pepperoni. And! And! He likes spinach, so sometimes he sneaks mine off my plate when I don't want to eat it and Mom's making me."

Jason watched as Elizabeth laughed and wrapped her arms around her little boy, tickling him and making him squeal. Jake giggled and flailed out on the large couch, his foot on the armrest and the other in the air, and Elizabeth's hair fell in her face as she leaned over him and poked his tummy. His own chair, in the meantime, was starting to feel a little too small.

"Thank you for letting me know," she grinned at her son. "I'll keep an eye out for that next time."

"I'll just feed it to the dog," Jake replied cheekily, giving his mother such a winning smile that Jason didn't blame her when Elizabeth could only smile in reply.

"You have a dog?"

His voice shook her from the playful spat and Elizabeth jerked upright and met his gaze. "Uh, no. I mean, not yet. We were, um, we were talking about getting one, me and the boys, but nothing's final yet. Amalia has one – um, Johnny Zacchara's daughter. She's got one. A big one, and the kids all love him. I think it's time Cameron and Jake had a dog of their own, though. Every boy needs a dog…"

"Me and Cameron want a German Shepherd," Jake announced. "A big old dog like Kane with big teeth and claws. He'll be scary to everyone else but be real nice to us. Mike and Morgan said they're going to help us figure out what to name him. Mister Corinthos, can I use your bathroom?"

Having raised two boys of his own, Sonny was more than used to non-sequitors and remarks that defied rational trains of thought. "Sure thing, kid. You know where it is, right?"

"Uh-huh." They watched him trot into the dining room and into the little hallway that led to the maid's room and the powder room.

A few seconds passed in tense silence. Sonny sat back in his armchair and watched Jason and Elizabeth, both of whom were trying admirably hard not to look at each other. It hadn't gotten easier for them over the years: neither easier to stay apart, nor easier to pretend like they meant nothing to each other. His best friend was stiff in his chair right across from him, and Elizabeth had her shoulders curled in and looked a lot smaller on the couch now that her son was no longer with her.

"So, uh, if the boys need anything, I'll call you right away."

She managed a small smile. "I wouldn't worry too much, Sonny, I think they'll be fine. Cameron's slept over at his Gram's a couple times when I had a late shift at the hospital. And Jake…"

She glanced up at the stairs, where Michael was in his bedroom showing Cameron the new pet snake his father had gotten him. "This is his first sleepover, but Michael and Morgan and Carly and Jax are like family to him."

She purposefully ignored Jason's stare and looked down at her hands instead. "Besides, his brother's here. He'd be just fine anywhere so long as Cameron was with him. And Cameron will be just fine since Michael's here. He looks up to him quite a bit, I think."

Sonny rubbed the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. "You know, they've all gotten pretty close lately. Michael, Morgan, Cameron, Jake. Michael asks about Cameron and Jake more than he used to – asks about how they are, if I've seen them around, that sort of thing. He never used to hang out with his little brother before unless Carly and I made them spend quality time together, but now that Cameron and Jake are around more, they've all made quite a little group for themselves. I noticed it a few months ago – I don't know what happened."

"And between the four of them and Spencer and little Mal, plus the girls, I think they've got quite a clique," Elizabeth smiled. "Those two are coming tonight, right?"

"Nikolas's meeting is running a little long, so Spencer's going to be an hour late getting here, but Patrick said he'd drop Mal off by seven."

They heard footsteps on the stairs just then, and all four of them looked up to see Michael come trotting down. He stopped when he saw his father, his uncle, and Elizabeth Webber seated on the couch with Jake kicking his feet and looking just a little smug about the whole thing.

"Uh…" He stopped and blinked. "Um, hi. Hi, Mrs. Webber. Uncle Jason, I, uh, I didn't know you were coming by."

Jason shifted in his chair, and if he hadn't been so uncomfortable in the damn thing he would have noticed the looks that passed between his nephew and his son. "Just stopped by to see your dad. Forgot that Morgan was having his sleepover tonight."

"Oh." Michael snapped his fingers and turned to Jake. "Right. Before I forget, Morgan's almost done with his bath and he'll be out in five minutes. He wanted to tell you sorry for making you sit with the adults."

"S'okay," Jake smirked, drumming his hands contentedly on the cushions as Jason wondered just why Michael looked like he was trying to hide a smile. "Don't care. Cam and I brought our extra controllers. You have the jack to plug them into, right?"

"It's in my room," he replied. "Cam'll bring it down. He's in my room with Brutus. We're going to feed him soon if you want to watch."

"I've seen snakes being fed before," Jake shrugged. "Is he poisonous?"

"Naw. Dad wouldn't let me get a poisonous one."

"You didn't leave Cameron alone with Brutus, did you?" Sonny arched a brow at his oldest son. "Mercedes is in there with you guys, right?"

"Yeah, dad, geez." Michael shook his head and hurried into the kitchen. "Back in a sec."

Elizabeth watched him go and shifted on the couch, marveling at how calm her son was. After all, he was sitting in the same room as his father and the man that would have been almost an uncle to him if it hadn't been for the choices they had all made. But Jake was perfectly at ease and blissfully unaware, and she was at least thankful that the drama from their lives hadn't adversely affected his.

"I – Oh." She looked down when she felt her phone vibrate. "Uh, I'm sorry, it's the hospital. Would you mind if-"

Sonny waved her toward the kitchen and Elizabeth hopped off the couch. She remembered herself and glanced at Jason and then down at her son, who blinked up at her much like an owl, making her realize that her apprehension was entirely unwarranted.

She managed a small smile and headed toward the kitchen. "Be right back."

Sonny let out a slow breath through his nose as he watched her depart, leaving the two Morgan men to stare at each other. Jake seemed content enough, swinging his feet off the couch, but Jason was rigid and awkward in his seat.

In the end, it was Mercedes that prevented him from easing the tension. "Mister Corinthos? Morgan's asking for you."

He looked at the father-son duo and slowly, reluctantly, pushed himself out of the chair. "All right, be right there. Ah, Jason, can you, uh…yeah."

Jason nodded, willing to sit around and watch his son until the others showed up and Sonny returned. Jake waited until Sonny was on the second floor before he leaned back and threw his arm over a pillow.

"So, Jason."

He blinked and almost unconsciously mimicked his son's position. "So, Jake."

"Don't take this the wrong way." He settled his feet on the coffee table now that Sonny was no longer around, and it amused Jason because that was what he used to do, too, until either Sonny or Carly caught him. His legs practically itched for him to do the same but he kept them planted solidly on the floor. "But don't you have something better to do on a Friday night than hang out here?"

"What do you mean?"

Jake shrugged. "Like, my mom's going to have dinner with Mrs. Zacchara because Amalia and Anna and Molly are sleeping over at CeeCee's tonight."

Amalia was Johnny Zacchara's little girl with his wife Nadine, Anna was Robin's little girl, and Molly belonged to none other than Ric Lansing. Jason was aware that the kids knew each other from school, but he had no idea that they were such good friends that they kept tabs on each other and respective plans for any given night.

"Aunt Robin said that she and Uncle Pat were going to go out to a fancy dinner after they drop Mal here and Anna at CeeCee's. Uncle Nik's has some more business to do – I wasn't really listening to what Spencer was saying. And Morgan said Mister and Mrs. Jacks are going to do some work for the hotel while the girls are at their place. Mister C's here, but only because he has to watch us. But what about you? Don't you have plans?"

Jason fidgeted in his chair, felt almost trapped in it. "No, not really."

"You done with work already?"

"Yeah. Finished up around lunch time."

Jake let out a whistle, which surprised Jason because he hadn't known that his son _could_ whistle. It had taken Michael forever to master the simple art. "Man, done by lunch time? You've got the best job in the _world_."

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's all right."

"No, seriously," Jake insisted. "Mom and Aunt Robin and Uncle Pat and Mrs. Zacchara have to be at the hospital _all_ the time. Uncle Pat almost missed Mal's birthday last year because he had his hand in some guy's head and couldn't take it out or the guy would have died or something. I couldn't imagine working like that. When I grow up, I wanna do what _you_ do. Home by lunch time. Man."

If his skin wasn't already dark from the hours spent on his motorcycle the day before, Jason was sure he would have been as pale as a sheet.

His son, however, wasn't done. "So you've really got no plans tonight, huh?"

Jason weakly drummed his fingers on the armrest, torn between the urge to excuse himself and leave the room, and spend just a moment's time more with his boy. "Nope."

"No other friends to hang out with except Mister C?" He cocked his head to the side. "I mean, when Morgan's busy, I hang out with Cam. Or Mal. Or Spencer, if he's around. I mean, it's not like Morgan's my only friend. My best friend, sure, but not my only friend."

Jason smiled politely, not particularly wanting to admit that Sonny was just about his only friend. "Well, uh, I guess Spinelli's a friend of mine. But he's always busy."

"With what?"

He tried not to roll his eyes. "His fiancé. The girl he's going to marry."

"Ms. Jones? His partner?"

"Yeah."

"They're getting married?"

"Yeah."

"Huh." Jake uncrossed and re-crossed his legs on the coffee table. "Good for Spinelli."

"What do you mean?"

"That he's getting married." Jake shrugged absently. "I mean, Mister C didn't get married again even though Mrs. Jacks did. You didn't married, Max didn't get married, Milo didn't get married. None of Mike or Morgan's other guards are married. I just figured that there was a rule about getting married if you worked selling coffee."

His chest constricted at his son's words. He had no idea how close to the truth he had struck with that remark. "Selling coffee" was precisely why he had been forced to call off his engagement to Elizabeth.

"So, good for Spinelli. He gets to prove to everyone that just because you have to have guards on you all the time doesn't mean you can't get married."

He couldn't get comfortable.

The chair was too small, the back was too hard, and the room was too stuffy. And his son knew the exact spot to poke a sharp stick.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Uh…yeah."

"Don't you have a girlfriend or something?"

Jason crossed his legs at the ankle, then fidgeted some more. "No, not really."

"What does 'not really' mean?"

It meant that when he really needed to let off some steam after living like a monk, he'd pick up a random nameless girl at Jake's and not bother with names or pleasantries afterwards, choosing instead to leave money on the nightstand and get the hell out of there.

But he could hardly explain that to a young boy.

"No, I don't have a girlfriend. Haven't for a very long time."

"Puh." Jake let out a little snort and flopped back on the sofa. "Seriously? Even _I _have a girlfriend."

Jason couldn't help but grin. "Really?"

"Uh-huh."

Kids these days. His seven-year-old son had a girlfriend – unbelievable. "What's her name?"

Jake's expression became immediately serious. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"We have to keep it a secret. It's safer that way."

Jason's jaw went slack, and a good minute passed before his mind kicked back into gear. "Uh-Wh-Why?"

If Jake noticed the way he stuttered, the boy ignored it. He lowered his legs from the coffee table and leaned toward Jason. "Because it's not safe for everyone to know that we're boyfriend-and-girlfriend. You know, because of Morgan. Because of who he is."

He could hear Sonny talking to Morgan right at the top of the stairs, and he could hear the click of Elizabeth's heels as she came down the little hallway leading back to the main room, but it was as if everything else was distant and obscure except him and his son.

His lips were dry and his voice cracked, but Jason managed to eke out, "What do you mean? Morgan…?"

Jake rolled his eyes with a little smile. "Because if Morgan found out that she was my girlfriend, he'd tease her until she cried. Duh. What did you think I meant?"

The pressure in his chest abated only slightly, and Jason had to lean back in his chair and try to catch his breath. Sonny was standing on the landing, looking at them curiously, and his expression perfectly matched that on Elizabeth's face as she stood by the dining table, but Jason could only stare at his son, bewildered at his easy-going air and cherubic smile.

"…Uh, nothing. Nothing."


	7. So Mean

**Note – F**or those that wonder why Jake can be friends with Morgan and why Jason has to stay away from Elizabeth, I answered it in feedback yesterday so I'll copy – paste.

I figure, and this is solely my reasoning, that in the working of the mob syndicate, the first way to attack a rival is to go after his assets, cripple him that way. That's where the brunt of the destruction happens. The next way is to go after the mob guy himself. Then if all else fails his wife and kids, but there you're really taking your life into your hands because you're breaking the "code" and if you lose or fail to come out on top, it's open season on your butt because you disrupted the order of things by going after kids and women. So while the danger against families is there, they're not the primary way to hurt one's enemies. Does that make sense? And I figure rival mob lords don't have a little spreadsheet that says "Sonny Corinthos, father of Morgan COrinthos. Jake Webber, Morgan Corinthos's best friend. Susie CarMichael, girl that Morgan Corinthos always borrows paste from in art class." Does that make sense at all?

Also, after Michael's shooting, Sonny dismantled the empire and turned it over to Jason, who very, very slowly has been building it back up, re-consolidating, in preparation of turning it over to Morgan. Things aren't as dangerous now as they used to be; the danger's there, but less so. Also, Jake primarily hangs with Morgan when he's at Jax's house, not Sonny's. The sleepover was one of very few times he was even at Harborview. Probably should have mentioned that, LOL.

And as for Jason, it's a combination of the danger, of people getting hurt just for standing next to him, Michael's almost-death, Carly's devastation as a mother for her children, AND the fact that he knows that if he's going to spend time with Elizabeth, he'll just want to be with the boys mroe and will open himself up to making mistakes. He figures it's better for everyone if he just cuts himself off at the knees and stays away for good. That way, no questions will ever be asked.

That's my reasoning.

**-Mean-**

**-6-**

_Why are you so mean to me?_

_You'll regret eventually._

-- "Why Are You So Mean To Me?" Nada Surf

"You said that?!"

Jake smirked at Amalia, who was hugging her knees to her chest as she listened to him relay the crucial events from the sleepover. "I did."

She shook her head. "…That was kind of mean, Jake."

He arched his brow arrogantly and passed her a juice box. They were always running low up in the tree house and his mother had just restocked the cooler this morning. It was always funny to see her climb into the tree house in her sandals, laden down with boxes of juice and cookies.

"I guess I'm just a mean guy."

Amalia rolled her dark eyes and stabbed the little foil insert with her straw. "You're not a mean guy, Jake."

"I could be," he pointed out. "You don't know."

"I know a lot about you," she asserted, tempted to squirt him with the juice. She was always tempted to do that when he was being a pain. "And I know you're not mean."

"…It felt pretty good, though. You should have seen him squirm."

Amalia grinned at the thought. "I can imagine it. Our sleepover wasn't nearly so exciting."

"You stay up and talk about me all night?" he winked. "That's what you dumb girls do at those things, isn't it?"

She snorted. "Nuh-uh. We watched movies and ate ice cream and then Mrs. Jacks let us put on makeup and she did our hair."

"Lame."

"And then Mister Jacks taught us how to play What's the Time, Mr. Wolf, and he said he and his brother used to play it with their friends. Then we caught fireflies and put them in a jar, and Mister Jacks started a fire in the pit outside and we made s'mores. We did fun stuff, not just sitting in front of the television with our stupid video games."

That earned her an indignant squawk. "You _like_ Super Mario Brothers Brawl!"

"…So?"

He rolled his eyes and pulled out a pack of peanut butter crackers to share. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"…So did he turn white like a sheet? I mean, when you told him that you kept it quiet because of Morgan and safety?"

"A little," Jake grinned. "It was funny."

Amalia's eyes narrowed as she reached for a cracker. "…You didn't actually tell him, did you? I mean, you didn't say that you and I were boyfriend-and-girlfriend, right?"

Jake snorted. "No. I'm not stupid. Morgan's head would explode if he found out."

She considered that a minute. "You know, maybe we _should_ tell."

"Ha." He rolled his eyes. "Nice try."

They sat in perfectly comfortable silence for a while, stretched out in their little tree house with an abundance of juice and artificially flavored baked snacks, until Amalia voiced a concern that had been troubling her for quite some time.

"You ever worry that knowing this – thing – and not telling anyone that you know, just keeping it with you, is gonna change you at all? Make you sadder over time? Meaner?"

"I don't think I could get any sadder than I was when I first found out," he replied slowly, folding his arms under his head and staring up at the ceiling. "That was pretty rough. Kay tried to talk to me some more, after Michael told her about this, and tried to cheer me up, but it's different."

"How?"

"She knows who her dad is. Everyone knows who her dad is. He comes by sometimes. He sees her and her mom. He doesn't deny that he's her dad. She has memories with him." He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I never got that. I don't remember him picking me up, I don't remember the sound of his voice when he talked to me, I don't even remember what he smelled like. I don't remember him being with my mom and not treating her like she was just another nurse at the hospital, or Morgan's friend's mother. He never comes to see me, he never comes to see my mom, and if he's asked if he's my dad, you know he'll just say he isn't."

"…So do you think it's changing you?"

"I don't think so," he replied. "I'm still the same person I was. I'm mad at him, yeah. I guess…I guess maybe it has changed me because I figured out how to be stronger about it. I figured out how to not let it hurt."

"How?"

"Just block it out. It doesn't exist. I know it, but it doesn't exist and it can't hurt me anymore. It's just…there. I have all the people in my life that I need, and I don't need him. That's what I keep telling myself, and it works. So it made me stronger that way, I think. I used to be really sad about it all the time, whenever I remembered, but I think I'm learning to block it out."

She was silent for a long moment, and then Amalia could hold it in no longer.

"Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"I think…" She pushed herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. "I think I can tell you something that might make you feel a little better."

He arched a brow at her. "What?"

"Well…" Amalia pushed herself up until she was sitting cross-legged. Jake did the same. "I haven't told anyone this, and I don't think a lot of people know, but I'm telling you. And don't tell Morgan, because he'll just be mean about it."

"I won't tell Morgan," he promised.

"My mom and dad started out kinda like your mom and dad." She fiddled with the hem of her dress. "They met one night and then my mom got pregnant and told my dad. That's the clean version of it. I heard my Aunt Claudia teasing my dad about it, so that's how I know. Basically, they met and they made me, but they didn't know it and they didn't even want me at the time, just like your dad."

The corner of Jake's mouth twitched, making Amalia frowned.

"Are you laughing at me? After what I just told you?!"

His smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. "A little."

"What for?"

"Because I already knew all that," he grinned, unable to contain his laugh when he saw her scowl. "Morgan found out from listening in on his mom, and he told me. I already knew that you were a tequila brat like me."

Amalia reached out and punched him in the arm, having picked up that particular debilitating trick from Cameron. "You're a jerk!"

"Okay, okay," he half-laughed, half-groaned, rubbing his arm as he sat up. "You're not a tequila brat."

"Thank you," she grumbled under her breath.

"…But you are a brat."

Her dark eyes narrowed and Amalia glared at him. "You know, I take back what I said. You are pretty mean after all."

Jake just laughed.


	8. Dear God

-

**-Mean-**

**-7-**

_The Father, Son, the Holy Ghost_

_They're just somebody's unholy hoax._

_And if you're up there, you'd perceive_

_That's my heart upon my sleeve._

_If there's one thing I don't believe in,_

_It's you, Dear God._

-- "Dear God," XTC

There was music coming from the normally quiet chapel in the hospital and when Jason pushed the door open to see, just out of curiosity, where it was coming from, he was surprised to see his son sitting on the bench of the old wooden piano in the dark, playing an old jazz tune.

The block of light from the hall that came in through the open door fell squarely on Jake, and the boy stopped playing and turned around to see who it was that dared to disturb him. When he turned, Jason saw that his son was wearing a pair of plastic sunglasses in a blue frame, despite the fact that he was indoors and that the lights in the chapel weren't even turned on.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were in here."

Jake turned back around and placed his fingers on the keys again. "S'okay. Close the door."

Jason almost stepped out into the hall, but on a whim, he entered the chapel fully and shut the door behind him. "I didn't know you played piano."

Jake didn't stop, and the upbeat tune continued. "Started taking lessons a long time ago. More than a year. Maybe two."

"Morgan never mentioned it."

"He's just embarrassed because he has no musical talent at all."

It was a succinct, jarring remark, but it made Jason smirk anyway. "You like music, huh?"

"Not really."

It was a strange contradiction, but Jason didn't push him. Kids had their own reasons for what they did, and if Jake was willing to practice piano without really liking music, that was his business. He was pretty good as it was. Music never really meant anything to Jason, and had certainly never been a source of enjoyment, but he liked whatever it was that his son was playing.

"You found a good place to practice," he said, remaining where he was by the door. Two rows of pews separated him and his boy, and the candles at the altar made their shadows flicker on the wall, the darkened shapes appearing much closer than the two of them actually were. "The chapel's quiet. Out of the way. And your mom's always around here anyway, so…"

He plinked away on the keys, the same melodic line over and over until he was sure that he had it just right. Anything less just wasn't acceptable.

"My Grampa Jeff died last week."

It was a non-sequitor but having been around Michael and Morgan all of their lives, Jason knew well enough to know that the tracks made for little boys' trains of thought rarely ran straight.

"I'm sorry." He already knew that Jeff Webber passed away, and had sent Elizabeth an innocuous bouquet of flowers in way of condolence over the loss of her father. Off-handedly, he wondered how many times Jeff had met the Webber boys. Probably more than he himself had the luxury of doing.

Jake didn't acknowledge his sympathies. "He had an arenism."

"Aneurysm."

"That's what I said." He jabbed at the keys a little harder, and the melody sounded resistant, as if it were pulling against him while he was trying to force it into submission. "Mom says it's when blood gets into your brain."

His small fingers faltered on the keys but he picked it up nicely and repeated the section, determined to get it right. "When me, Mom, and Cam got back from Colorado, Nurse Jones and a lot of other people that remembered Grampa Jeff held a vigil for him in this chapel. Mal's grampa was there, too, and so was Mister Jacks's brother and Anna's gram. And Mike's family, the Quartermaines."

Jake glanced over his shoulder at his father when he said that, and his movements were absolutely fluid. "That's when I found out that this place was even here. Mom says it's okay if I play here, but if someone comes in to pray, then I should stop and leave them alone because praying is a very personal thing."

His fingers stilled and he cocked a brow at Jason. "You're not here to pray, are you?"

Jason held himself perfectly still, and a flicker of remorse passed through his eyes. "No, not today."

The only thing he ever prayed for was for the safety and happiness of the kids he loved. Michael, Morgan, Cecily, Jake, and Cameron were all growing up well-adjusted and that was all he could have ever asked for. Hell, his son had a girlfriend, was doing well in school, had a good relationship with his brother, took care of his mother, and played the piano. He was living a normal life, and that was all that mattered.

Jake nodded absently. "Yeah, I don't pray, either."

This was interesting. "You don't?"

He shook his head, managing a particularly difficult part of the tune. "Nope. I pretend to when Mom tucks me and Cam in at night, but, really, what's the point?"

Without pausing to let Jason contemplate this, Jake continued. "Did you know that I was baptized?"

It was a trick question, he knew it was, and Jason considered his words carefully. "…Is that so strange?"

"My brother wasn't baptized," his son stated. "We're not the same religion. Did you know that?"

He did. "I didn't."

"Cam and my mom are the same religion," Jake explained, plinking away with great concentration. "But I'm different. I'm Catholic. Or I'm supposed to be. I'm not, though."

Jason gripped the edge of the pew and widened his stance slightly. It was almost unnerving, being this uneasy in conversation with his own son. "No?"

"Don't you think it's weird," he continued, ignoring Jason's response, "that in a house of three people, there are two different religions?"

Jason swallowed thickly. "Ah, maybe your mom wanted you to have the same religion as your father. The Spencers are Catholic."

It was a half-truth. The Spencers were indeed Catholic, but Elizabeth had baptized Jake and enrolled him in Sunday school at the community center out of respect for Jason, all the while telling anyone that asked that it was because Lucky wished his only son to be of the same faith as he.

Jake snorted. "Don't know why. He's never around anyway. What does he care what God I do or don't worship?"

And then, before Jason could even balk, he added, "besides, it's not like religion is all that important anyway."

"You – You don't think religion is important?"

Jake shook his head. "It's a nice idea, real pretty and such, but in real life it doesn't really mean much, not the way I see it. Sure, it's a nice idea to have a pretty building where you sit and stand and kneel and eat wafers and drink wine and sing and talk in Latin, but what does it mean? That there's some kind of God watching over you, getting mad because you don't say his name before you eat? Sounds pretty hokey to me. Like something your mom tells you to get you to brush your teeth and not cheat off your neighbor and not steal your brother's M&Ms."

This was interesting: he was standing around in a tiny chapel, listening to jazz and discussing theology with his kid. It was just too bad that Jake had for some reason abandoned the idea of religion for reasons that Jason couldn't even hope to be privy to. And there was no real way to ask Elizabeth, either.

He told her all those years ago that he wouldn't come to her, but that all she had to do was call him and he would meet her. But he also told her that before she did, she should remember Carly screaming for Michael, and Elizabeth had really taken that to heart. The only call he got was when Jake was four. When they met at the safehouse on the outskirts of town, overjoyed to see each other after three long years apart, Elizabeth explained that Jake fell out of a tree and broke his leg, but that he was going to be just fine. She'd given him a bunch of pictures, which Jason left hidden in the safehouse for safety's sake, and told him that she wanted to be the one to tell him instead of letting him hear it from someone else, much less see Jake in his little cast.

"So you don't believe in God, then?"

"I don't think so," came the answer after a long pause.

"What _do_ you believe in?"

"I believe in balance," he finally replied. This time, he stopped playing, his fingers still on the keys, and turned over his shoulder and looked at him. "I believe that there's a balancing force out there in the universe somewhere, and that our actions aren't meaningless. It's possible to be a good person without believing in God or punishment, not believing that you have to be a good person because you'll be smited or smoted or whatever.

"And I think being a good person without believing in that punishment or God's justice or whatever is even better than the other way," he continued. "Because it comes from a place where you're not afraid. You're doing it because that's who you are. I believe in that. I believe that our actions are stored somewhere, and that we always get back what we put out there."

He pressed his fingers to the keys and a few loud, battling notes issued forth, angry and confused. "And I believe we all get what's coming to us in the end. A kind of justice, payback, something that evens out the playing field, you know? Nothing is overlooked, the smallest good deed, the most well-intentioned bad deed. You know?"

That got a very small smile out of Jason. The response was more thought-out than he would have thought for a nine-year-old. "So what are you doing in a church, then?"

Jake smirked at his father's teasing. "Don't tell the Big Guy, but I'm not here for Him. I'm here for the piano."

He cleared his throat and led the song back to the beginning somewhere, appearing to no longer care whether Jason stayed or not. _"She had a dream about the King of Sweden. He gave her things that she was needin'. He gave her a home made of gold and steel, a diamond car with blood in the wheels. Hi dee hi, hi dee ho, told you before that I love you so…"_


	9. I'm No Fool

**Note – **The funniest part about this chapter, to me, is how each kid's future occupation is pretty much put right out there.

**-Mean-**

**-8-**

_I've got another confession to make:_

_I'm no fool._

-- "The Best of You," Foo Fighters

Carly Corinthos-Jacks's living room had been transformed into a veritable war room.

That much was clear to Jason when he was invited in. "Hey."

"Hey," Carly grinned back at him. "We weren't expecting you – you're a surprise. Come on in."

He self-consciously gripped his jacket, trying to decide whether to take it off or leave it on as Carly shut the door behind him. "What's, uh, what's going on?"

Morgan, Amalia, Mal, Anna, CeeCee, Molly, Spencer, and even Kristina were sprawled out on the floor with poster boards, markers, and stencils. Michael, who had just come off a two weeks' grounding sentence, was nowhere in sight. Jax was reclined in his easy chair, alternating between reading the paper and making sure the kids didn't get any marker on the carpet.

"A presidential campaign headquarters meeting," Carly grinned, tugging him into the room. "Kids, say hi."

"Hi," they all chimed in dutifully without lifting their noses from their respective poster boards.

He finally let Carly take his jacket and glimpsed the _Morgan for 6__th__ grade Class President! _sign that Anna and CeeCee were busy coloring in with bright red permanent marker. "Presidential campaign, huh?"

"My baby's going to run for the president of his class and a seat on the junior high student council," Carly announced proudly. "And we're all going to be proud of him whether he wins or not."

"Positive thinking, Mrs. Jacks," came a voice from the other room, and Jason looked over just in time to see Jake walk into the room with a tall glass of milk. "Morgan _is_ going to win, no two ways about it. Hey, Jason."

"H-Hi," he got out, watching Jake set his milk down on a coaster and survey the group. "So you guys are trying to get Morgan on student council, huh? That's cool."

"No one says cool anymore, Uncle Jason," Morgan replied blandly as he held down a stencil for the letter M, waiting patiently as Amalia carefully traced the outline in black.

"How many _Morgan for Class President _posters we got so far?" Jake asked, looking at the girls. "Moll, I need a number."

"Six."

He considered this. "Nice. Let's make two more of those – Anna and CeeCee, just holler when you've finished the ones you've got, that'll be it. Let's make sure we've got enough of the funny fliers. Mal, what have you got there?"

He held up a sheet of paper with the word _SEX_ written in big, red block letters. Underneath it, his neat print read, _Now that I've got your attention, vote for Morgan Corinthos for 6__th__ grade class president!_

"What do you think?"

Jason watched Jake study the flier as Carly's jaw dropped. "I like the idea – we're on the right track, trying to get everyone's attention."

"That says sex!" Carly squawked, and Jax sat up rapidly to take notice.

"-But I'm wondering if they'll make us take it down as soon as we put it up." He tapped his finger thoughtfully on his chin. "They probably will. Better hold off on those. Good idea, though. Anything we could use as a substitute for sex?"

"Masturbate," Morgan muttered under his breath, making Amalia and Molly laugh. "Or cats."

Jake hid a grin when he saw Carly plant her hands on her hips. "How about…"

"Free candy?" Amalia suggested. "That would work."

"Yeah, but we'd have a riot on our hands if people went to Morgan for candy and he didn't have any," Jake pointed out. "Besides, I'm worried that he might be disqualified if that's seen as bribery."

Jason shook his head briskly. It was unnerving, almost, to see his son commanding this meeting about politics and public officials and bribery. The scary part came when he realized that if he aged the kids about twenty years, this could easily have been a conversation between him and Sonny back when Sonny was still the owner of the business and Jason his partner.

"Kay? What's the verdict?"

Kristina Davis, an incumbent member of the eighth grade council, lifted her head. "A disqualification is entirely possible whether or not any candy changes hands, though it's debatable whether or not said promises of candy were made explicit. We might have a loophole, but it's tenuous at best."

"Definitely her mother's daughter," Jax murmured, returning once more to his newspaper.

"Your opponent has a pretty catchy slogan," Molly piped up. "I sat behind them on the bus and listened to his campaign manager tell her friend about it. It's-"

"Wait!" Spencer Cassidine slammed his marker down and sat up. "Don't tell us."

Molly was puzzled. "Why not?"

"Because it's unethical," he insisted. "And we're not sending a good message to the voters if we steal our rival's idea."

"He makes a good point," Jake said, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. "Okay, let's keep going with what he have right now. Anna, you're our creative genius: come up with some kind of funny or catchy slogan that we can use on the fliers. We'll keep the posters orthodox and go crazy on the fliers."

Jason watched Robin's little girl puzzle over her task. "Um…"

While she was thinking, Jake turned to Mal. "Okay, for the speech on Friday, we're going to need a campaign song for Morgan to go out on. Did you come up with any?"

"At first I was thinking, 'Simply the Best,' but that's so out of touch," Mal replied. "Then I thought John Mayer's 'Waitin' on the World to Change,' but it's too preachy and slow and whiny. And then I hated all the other ideas I had, so I wrote something of my own and I kind of think it rocks. So we should use that, if it's okay with everyone. I can play it for you tomorrow after school if you guys come over."

"Yes, good." Jake clapped his hands. "We'll use yours, I'm sure it's really good. It's a good personal touch, too, I think. Especially if you can bring your guitar that day and play live. I'll ask my mom to drop us so that you don't have to lug that thing on the bus both ways. Anna, come up with anything yet?"

"_Don't be stingy: ask for Morgan."_

Carly clamped her hand over her mouth to hide her snort of laughter. Cuteness must have skipped a generation in Robin's family, because her daughter had it in spades.

"How many kids are on the 6th grade council?"

Molly checked her compiled stats in her Hello Kitty notebook. "Four total officers."

Anna nodded confidently. _"Sixth grade council: Coming soon with 25 more Morgan."_

Jake and Morgan grinned at that. "You know, that's not bad."

"_Wanted: Morgan Corinthos, 6__th__ grade student council."_

"That might make people think of who his dad is," Mal sang half-under his breath, not wanting to offend Mrs. Jacks.

"It's tongue-in-cheek, though," Jake pointed out, "if we use it, it shows that we're not hiding it and we're not afraid of it. Takes the ammunition away from the opponent. What else you got, Anna?"

"_What can Morgan do for you?"_

"Good, good."

"_No Morgan, no comment."_

"Okay."

"_Please, Sir, may I have some Morgan?"_

"Funny."

"Uh…_When the going gets tough, the tough get Morgan."_

"Yeah, that works."

"_Think different: Think Morgan. Bigger, Better, Morgan. _Um…_The Morgan man._ That's all I got."

Jake turned to Molly, who was scribbling it all down in her notebook. "You got that, Moll?"

"Every word," she replied. "Should we get started?"

"Yeah." Jake passed them a stack of computer paper he'd taken – with permission – from Jax's office. "CeeCee, you're our design girl. Thoughts on colors."

"Black writing, all capitals with lower case I's and E's, with red, purple, green, and robin's egg blue squigglies or designs – like firecrackers or explosions – varying from flyer to flyer. Trust me. That's the design scheme that's going to be 'in' by the time we get these things up."

Jason watched in amazement as the kids put everything together, not entirely sure how to feel about the fact that his son was the clear ringleader. He always thought Jake was a little on the quiet side, a little too reserved and contemplative to be giving orders and planning everything this way.

"Great. Okay, let's make sure we've got the campaign part planned."

"I thought you guys just did," Carly said, taking a seat on the arm of the sofa. "You know, with the posters and the fliers."

Jake slid her a sweetly patronizing look, not altogether unlike the ones his father often directed at her as well. "Mrs. Jacks, that was the display part. The press. The actual campaigning part has to do with talking to the voters, telling them who to vote for, and making it worth their while."

Jax tried to hide his amusement. "But I thought we agreed that bribery, even if no goods changed hands, was grounds for disqualification. Call me crazy, but I don't want my kid disqualified, especially not during his first bid for office. Ugh, the press would have a field day with it."

Jake allowed this. "What I meant was…look, the average voter is stupid."

Jason, Carly, and Jax all stared at him. None of the other kids did, causing Jason to think they were well aware of Jake's thoughts on this and other matters.

"The average voter is one in a herd of sheep," the boy continued. "He'll vote the way his friends are voting. And chunks will vote for the person they think they have the biggest connection to, the person that they feel they 'own' more than the other. We have to make everyone feel like they can own a piece of Morgan."

"I'm not selling out," his best friend warned. "Morgan Corinthos is not a sell-out. You remember that."

"You won't have to sell out," Jake scoffed. "We'll just make everyone think you are, that you're really invested in whatever it is that they want to see happen for the school, even if you're not."

"Ah, so you're pro-pandering," Jax interjected with a scholarly nod. He was teasing the boys as he usually did. "Good to know."

Jake just shrugged. "Hey, if it works, why not? The only thing that matters is getting Morgan into office. Okay, so, Mal, you've got an in with the band dorks."

"We're not dorks!"

He arched a brow but continued anyway. "You get them to think that Morgan, despite not having a single musical bone in his body-"

"In your role as my campaign manager, am I also paying you for the personal abuse, or is that extra?"

"You're not paying me at all, lunk head, I'm doing this pro bono. Anyway, get them to think that Morgan is a lover of the arts. We'll stick a Strauss CD in his locker to back it up."

Mal wrinkled his nose. "Why Strauss?"

"Because Mozart and Beethoven are overdone and Schubert is too complicated, and Vivaldi's too campy," Jake explained. "We'll also stick in a Dizzy Gillespie CD-"

"That's just because _you_ like him."

"-And one of his Rolling Stones CDs. So Mal, your job is to get their votes. Anna, Molly, and CeeCee don't have any friends in our grade, and you guys don't even go to our school, so this doesn't have anything to do with you. Amalia, you get the popular girls."

"But I'm not a popular girl. I hang out with _you_."

Jake glared at her. "Can you do it or not?"

"Fine, fine."

"Talk about what a great guy Morgan is," Jake instructed, amusing Jason terribly. "Tell them he treats his mom real nice, he's looking into being a part of his dad's business one day – be very vague about _which_ dad – and tell them that he's real good boyfriend material. Just stick to those key points and we should be set."

"Chauvinist."

"If it works, don't kick it. Next." He turned to Spencer. "You've got the preppies."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Big surprise there."

"Tell them about the time Morgan came over and fenced with you."

"You mean the time he tried an Attack au Fer and tripped on his feet, and when he nearly poked his eye out during the conversation-sequence?"

Morgan glared at him. "You had it out for me that day. That's why."

"Gloss over the gory details," Jake suggested. "Talk about the fencing, talk about how he's a great equestrian-"

"He has two horses at the Greystone that he sees once a month, and he's deathly terrified of one of them."

"Just go with it. And just play up his finer tastes."

"I've got my work cut out for me."

"Kay."

Kristina stretched her arms over her head. "What?"

"You'll be graduating this year, and you've been on the student council all three years that you were at our school. I want to schedule a few key appearances with you and Morgan – you know, just so that you two can be seen together. Recess work for you?"

"I can juggle some things around and make it fit. They have to be relatively short engagements, though."

Carly was about to fall off the couch laughing, but equally stern looks from Jason and Jax helped her maintain her composure.

"What about you?" Amalia wanted to know. "What group are you going to hit? The jocks?"

Jake snorted. "As if. I'm not a jock, Morgan is. He can handle them just fine. I'll take the average kids that are just fine the way they are but don't really fit in anywhere else. And I'll take the old-bloods that don't fit into the preppy category. You know, the ones that come from old families like mine. The ones that have a lot of history in this town. I'll play up my family connections on both sides. You know, the Webbers and the Spencers and the Quartermaines," he added when Carly, Jax and Jason all went suspiciously silent.

Amalia played along. "The Quartermaines? How are you connected to them through family?"

Jake paused, enjoying the tormented look on his father's face for perhaps one moment too long before replying, "Because Grampa Luke's married to Granny Tracy, and she's a Quartermaine. Duh."

The adults in the room let out an almost audible breath of relief, and Jake smirked smugly. "I'll use that niche to get myself elected, too."

This was news to both Jason and Carly. "You're running for student government, too?"

Jake nodded. "Sure am. You didn't think I'd dump Morgan in the deep end of the pool all by himself, did you?"

"He's the one that orchestrated this whole thing," Morgan piped up. "He's got a big plan, a big-picture plan. Jake's the mastermind behind all of this, and his plan will be set into motion once I get the President's seat."

Jason fidgeted on the couch. "Which, uh, which position are you going for, then? Vice President?"

His son shook his head. "Nope. Treasurer."

Carly blinked, wondering why a child would voluntarily pick that position. "Because you're trustworthy? Because you like handling money?"

"I don't know if I'd call myself trustworthy," he shrugged. "I think that's the kind of thing you can't call yourself until someone else calls you that a couple times. And I don't really care one way or another about the money."

Jason was confused. "Then why be Treasurer?"

The smallest, most wicked grin curled across Jake's lips. "Because no one ever suspects the Treasurer…"

Before he could contemplate the truly sinister expression on his son's face, much less surmise the dirty schemes he was concocting, the doorbell rang and the front door opened. Obviously, the visitor was someone familiar enough with the Jacks household to not feel the need to wait for one of them to answer the door.

And that person turned out to be none other than Elizabeth.

She'd most likely just gotten home from work and was wearing a pair of blue jeans under a soft, billowy teal shirt, looking incredibly refreshed for so late in the day. "Hey, guys, I- Oh."

His eyes locked with hers, and Jason could see Elizabeth draw in a quick breath. It was always like this when they met unexpectedly, and he knew over the years that she very seldom came over to Carly's house on her own – first, because the two of them were hardly close friends – because she didn't want to chance running into him. Even ten years later, it still hurt too damn much.

Oblivious to the tension, or so he thought, Jake frowned at his mother, the expression one of concern rather than anger. "Mom, what are you doing here? I would have walked home on my own just fine, you didn't have to come. I didn't want you walking all the way here after work."

She laughed weakly at his protectiveness. "All the way? Honey, it's just a block or two, no big deal. I, uh, I thought I'd see if you kids were just about done. Cameron said he'll call when Mrs. Scott is ready to drop him off, so I figured I'd walk you home before then. You guys, uh, almost done?"

Whereas before he'd been towering over the other kids with his arms crossed, in his mother's presence Jake quickly sat down cross-legged on the floor and grabbed a sheet of typing paper, not wanting to look like the ring leader. "Almost, Mom, just a little left to do. We have to make sure Morgan wins."

"Ah." Elizabeth wrung her hands together and nodded jerkily as Carly reached out and discreetly slipped her hand into the crook of Jason's arm. "Okay, all right, then."

Paper crinkled loudly as Jax haphazardly folded his paper and set it down on the table, shooting up to his feet. "Elizabeth, you like tea, don't you?"

She wasn't expecting the question and blinked at him like an owl. "I…yes, I do."

"Excellent," Jax beamed, gracing her with a charming smile that Jake recognized all too well as something meant to put everyone at ease. "Because I got a shipment of assorted teas delivered to me yesterday – we're trying to pick a new blend to add to our breakfast selection at the MetroCourt – and Carly's a coffee drinker, so she's of no help whatsoever."

"It's true," Carly agreed. "Tea is too weak and fruity or herb-y for me."

"I would love it if you could help me out," he smiled, beckoning for Elizabeth to come with him to the kitchen. "We have a pomegranate blend that I think you'll love. I'll put on the kettle right now."

Jake watched his father breathe a sigh of relief as his mother left the room, and almost wondered if he hated him for it.


	10. Sweet Heart, Bitter Heart

**-Mean-**

**-9-**

_Sweet heart,_

_Bitter heart,_

_Now I can't tell you apart._

-- "1, 2, 3, 4," Feist

Kristina Davis poked her head into the Webbers' tree house and promptly ducked back down when a coffee crate came flying at her head. It shattered against the wall behind her, spraying broken bits of wood everywhere, and she straightened only when everything settled.

Jake was pacing in jerky, agitated circles and had clearly kicked the crate in a rage. Kristina was familiar with his moods and hoisted herself up. She was getting almost too big to fit in here – her head was just an inch away from the ceiling when she stood to her full height. The tree house still worked for thirteen-year-olds, but at sixteen she was pushing it.

"Hey."

Jake glanced over at her but didn't say anything, continuing to pace. His tree house was in shambles, but the destruction hadn't appeared to calm him down any.

She picked her way past bits of wood until she stood a few feet away from him. "You okay?"

He glared at her and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Fine."

Kristina was used to his defense mechanisms and walked over to the window. She sat down on the little sill, crammed into the window and safely tucked out of the way, and watched him pace some more. "Something happened."

Jake heaved a heavy sigh. "I saw him again this morning."

"Uh-oh." She tucked her dark hair behind her ear. Jake was always agitated after particularly fortuitous run-ins with his father. He was the kind of boy that liked to have the upper hand; when he ran into Jason unexpectedly, it threw him off center. "What happened?"

"I went over to Morgan's to pick up Teague," he said, referring to his dog of five years. "He's trying to convince his mom to get him and CeeCee a dog, so he babysits ours sometimes if me and Cam have plans."

He kicked at a piece of wood and watched it scuttle to the other side of the tree house. "Jason was there."

Her dark, solemn eyes followed him as he moved restlessly. "Yeah?"

"He was sitting in the living room in Mister Jacks's chair, laughing and drinking soda with Morgan," he scowled. "They were talking about graduation and high school next year and all that stuff, and you should have seen his face when I walked in. He was laughing and smiling two seconds ago and when I walked in, Jesus Christ. He clammed up real good."

Kristina watched sadly as Jake scowled and kicked another small piece of wood, this time shooting it right out the other window. She had seen his anger simmer over the years, and Jake just couldn't hold it in any longer. There was no one who could make him angrier than his father, and she knew it was killing him inside. She just wished she knew how to help.

"So, you know me, I couldn't let a golden opportunity pass me by," he continued with a bitter, forced laugh. "I started needling the guy. Why not, you know? Why not make him squirm?"

"Because seeing him get all twisted up inside makes you feel less twisted up," she said softly. "I get that, believe me, I get it."

It was what he'd been doing for years, after all. In fact, if she didn't know better, she'd think that Jake planned out his verbal spats with Jason, disguising each one with his disarming, impish grin and easy-going, all-American air.

"I asked if he was coming to our graduation."

"What'd he say?"

"He said, yeah, of course, he wouldn't miss it," Jake mimicked, his lips twisting into an ugly sneer. "Sure, since the kid who carries his freaking name is graduating, why not go? Ugh."

"Well, to be fair…"

"I'm sick of being fair," he snarled. "At that point, I was just pissed off. So I was like, oh, okay, that's cool since I never see you at any of Morgan's other school things, anyway. And I was like, I know it's because of your job and stuff and he was like, yeah, and I was like, has that changed? Don't you still do that kind of work?"

Kristina bit her lip, knowing that there was no way this would end well. "What did he say?"

Jake scowled. "He was quiet for a few seconds and then he said that his life is dangerous but thankfully things have been quiet and less unsafe since Morgan and I were kids, and that even though the danger was still there, it was less. And I'm thinking, then what the hell are we doing, asshole?"

He swept a hand through his sandy hair, visibly trembling with anger. "You've been gone my whole life because you picked the damn business over me and my mom and my brother, and you've always said how dangerous it was, and now this? Son of a…"

"I heard talk that after Mike got shot, my dad split the business up into parts," Kristina interjected helpfully. "You know, divided things up, let them sit there. He turned it all over to your dad, and I think he's finally started to put things back together. He's going to give it to Morgan when he's old enough."

"Morgan doesn't want it," Jake grumbled. "He told me."

Kristina's brows jumped. "You think he'll bail on Daddy and Jason?"

"No," he replied mysteriously. "He's not going to do that. He's going to take the damn business and he's going to run it."

He stomped on a piece of wood, pleased when it splintered. "Damn business. If it wasn't for that thing, my mom would actually be happy right now. She'd be married to Jason, they might have had more kids, even, and she would have been happy. Instead, she's alone and lonely and she has to deal with me and Cam on her own and it's his fault."

Kristina sighed heavily. She was used to such rants but had never seen Jake as angry as this: angry enough to swear and virtually tear apart his tree house, his bastion of independence during childhood. Knowing Jake, he'd probably tell his mother that the winds from last night's storm were responsible for the damage.

When he was young and she found him crying about Jason, she knew how to deal with him. Jake would get angry and defensive and insist that it was allergies, and that he wasn't crying. She'd wrap her arms around him and just sit with him for a while before his tears dried, and then she'd try to offer him a few encouraging words about how his dad loved him – he had to – and Jake would walk away.

She knew it was getting to the poor kid. Seven years ago, he found out about his true parentage and regardless of his claims to the contrary, Kristina knew it ate him up inside and changed him. Jake had grown angrier over the years; he was fierce and ambitious and indomitable, or so he liked to think. That was the image he crafted for himself, and he worked harder and harder every day at whatever it was that he was doing. He wanted to be the best at what he did, the best at everything, better than everyone, and those were some lofty goals for a thirteen-year-old with the world's largest chip on his shoulder.

Kristina sometimes wondered how Elizabeth Webber hadn't seen the change in her youngest son, but she had long ago figured that if she did see it, she mistakenly thought that it was puberty and Jake trying to live up to a standard of manhood that he created in the semi-absence of his supposed father, Lucky Spencer. It was the most rational explanation, after all.

And for his part, Jake hid the changes from his mother. In her presence, he was perfectly respectful and loving. He did the things normal boys did, but he always apologized to his mother and did his best to reform. There was truly no other word for it: Jake Webber (Morgan) _cherished_ his mother. He saw her as an anointed saint, living her life in the service of her two children after being abandoned by both his biological and legal father. In his eyes, Elizabeth could do no wrong, and Jake slavishly adored her for both her sacrifices as well as her motherly manners.

"I hate that he makes me feel this way." His hands were balled into tight fists. "And I hate how I know that if he stopped it all right now, told the truth and just hugged me once, I'd probably forgive him for all of it."

Kristina's brows shot up. "You would?"

This was promising.

"Isn't that pathetic?" he asked, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. "That at this point, I would still make it _that_ easy for him?"

"Well, I think-"

"At least I know for a fact that being at that graduation is going to kill him inside," Jake grumbled. "He'll be taking pictures with Morgan and Mrs. Jacks, and I bet the whole time he'll be thinking that he _should_ be taking pictures with me and Cam and my mom."

"You know, I think you're right," Kristina started slowly, knowing she couldn't screw this up. Jake was a stubborn little boy, and it took a lot to get through to him sometimes. "Why do you think that is?"

He cocked a brow at her, in no mood for games. "Since you sound like you clearly have an idea, why not share it instead of interrogating me?"

Kristina pursed her lips and tried again. "It always messes Jason up when you talk like that, right? When you drop hints that way and poke him like that? Why would it upset him so much if he didn't want to be with you guys? If he didn't want to claim you as his son, if he didn't want to be a father to Cam and marry your mom? Obviously, it still hurts him. Based on his track record these past seven years, I don't think time is going to change that."

Jake glared at her. "He made his choice. Now he's gotta live with it. It can be a hard thing to accept, even if you think you did the right thing and have no intention of changing your mind."

"Jake…" She shook her head. "I know you think our situations are completely different, and they are, up to a point. But I honestly believe that your father loves you just like mine loves me. They want to be with us, but because of the realties of their lives, they can't be. They don't want to put us in danger and even though the decision hurts, they stick by it because they love us and want us safe. And they can't find a middle ground, like taking us half-time, because that would make them want to be with us all the time, and they don't want to risk our lives like that."

He rolled his eyes and turned his back on her. "And yet they both found other families to be a part of. Your dad's a half-time dad to Mike and Morgan, with Mister and Mrs. Jacks, and Jason makes sure he's always available for them. He's been to every single one of Morgan's birthday parties, has dinner with them once a week, plays catch with Mike a couple times a month, and fixed Morgan's bike last week when the wheel got screwy. And for us? He actually looks _relieved_ when my mother leaves a damn room. How the hell is that fair?"

"I just – look, they both love us-"

"Maybe," he allowed harshly, "but they've both chosen other things over us. My dad chose the business, and your dad chose Mike and Morgan."

He felt bad at the crestfallen look in her eyes and realized that this was his usual way: making others feel bad just because he did. He wanted to apologize, but nothing he said had been a lie. If Kristina realized that now, it might even save her some pain later on.

"There's no way to excuse it, Kay," he told her softly. "I honestly can't figure out why you try. Maybe you have to," he added when the light in her eyes dimmed. "And that's fine, that's you. It's between you and your dad. At least you two can talk about it. I don't have that, so I make my own decisions about it, draw my own conclusions. And I can tell you that Jason will probably die before he tells me the truth: he'll take this to his grave. And that's fine, because so will I."

Jake shook his head. "It makes me feel better, you know. Proving that I can do stuff. Busting my ass to be the best. Because one day, I know I'll be able to shove it in his face and show him that _this_ was what he left behind, this was what he didn't think was good enough. And he can just choke on it, because you know he still won't say anything."

"But, Jake, that's not healthy. And who knows if things will work out the way you hope, anyway?"

"Because the plan is solid," he replied stubbornly. "Morgan and I laid it out and it's solid. Not a single flaw. We both know what we have to do, and there's no way that Jason can just pretend that I don't exist, that I'm not his kid. By the time I'm done with him…he'll wish he never walked away from my mom and us."

He scowled and moved past her, barely stopping to look before he lowered his foot to the first rung of the rope ladder and began climbing down. Kristina sighed and looked around, then called out to him.

"You trashed your tree house."

She could hear him snarl. "That's okay. I'm getting too old for this fucking thing, anyway."


	11. Stranger in the Moonlight

**Note – **A few quick notes. First, thank you immensely for the wonderful feedback. I wrote a huge long post about it in reply to the last chapter at RTN, but it bears repeating: Thank you SO much for the feedback. I really enjoy reading it.

Also, Jake and Morgan's relationship is safe, as is Jake and Cameron's though he's been busy these few chapters and doesn't pop up. Both pairs of boys will be solid throughout their lives, even though they hit rough patches. Nothing to worry about there.

Jake and Kristina is not happening. :-P I see her more as his mother hen, the one that always tries to soothe his anger and make him a 'good little boy' despite knowing she's fighting a losing battle. The mother hen aspect becomes more important as they get older and Kristina becomes a lawyer because, duh, Jake's gonna need one. LOL.

About Jake and Elizabeth – yes, you're all right. He has no idea that Elizabeth was the one who asked/told Jason to give Jake up around the time that Alan died. No idea whatsoever. Everyone's conveniently forgotten to mention that part when the kids were all busy snooping. :-P

Will there be Liason sex in this story? Yes. Will there be a Liason romance? Yes. Will it be anytime soon? God, no. When it happens, will you ask yourself, was it even worth it? If I've done my job, yes.

Also, I made a promo for this story at Mel/LissieLove's urging. We're so kindred spirits on this whole "let's age everyone twenty years" story business. It's up on Youtube under my "humatheguma" channel, and also at my site. Link in the profile.

* * *

**-Mean-**

**-10-**

_The stranger in the moonlight_

_Looks stranger in the moonlight._

-- "New Amsterdam," Travis

Jason could smell a barbeque going as he pulled his bike up to the curb in front of Carly's house. His best friend spotted him from the gate and trotted barefoot across the grass, careful to make sure that none of the kids, who were gathered by the grill that Morgan and Jake had going, noticed her.

"Hey!"

He slid off the bike and walked a few steps over to meet her. "You have it?"

"Yeah." She reached for her back pocket and glanced over her shoulder. Jason could see Jason and Morgan, now sophomores at Port Charles High, standing around by the grill. Michael was stretched out on a lounge chair with his cell phone, no doubt engaged in a texting marathon with his girlfriend of three weeks back in Boston, and Cecily was yakking away on the phone with Anna as usual.

"Sorry I was a little late – something came up at the MetroCourt and then the kids wanted to barbeque and Jake and Morgan spent forever trying to convince Jax to let them light the grill for once and…yeah."

Jason stared past her at his son, who had shot up like a weed since the last time he saw him. Jake was tall and somewhat built now and had about two inches on Morgan. They both wore track shorts and a PCH sweatshirt monogrammed with their sports logo. Morgan had signed on for the junior varsity soccer team in freshman year, and he knew that Cameron was a runner now in his senior year. Michael, who was home from Harvard for the weekend, had been on the football team, and Jake had dabbled with football, soccer, and basketball in his freshman year before finally settling on basketball.

He was damn good, too, though a terror to the coaches. Jake was _not_ a team player. His goal was to make the local paper each season, and he did whatever he needed to make that happen. Sometimes he worked on shooting, sometimes rebounds, sometimes assists, knowing that the paper printed outstanding scorers in each category. His coaches would grow frustrated and penalize him within limits because after all, he was one of their best players, but Jake would keep doing what he was doing and his hard work would pay off – though his method for achieving his goals was far from orthodox, much less appreciated.

"Here it is." Carly pulled a mini-DVD in a sleeve out of her back pocket and handed it to him. "Spinelli went with Morgan and shot it and emailed it to me, and Jax put it on here. I didn't label it. Figured you could do that…or not."

Jason smiled and looked down at the disc in his hands. It was Jake's game from earlier that week. "Thanks."

Carly clasped his hand gently. "No problem."

A small mushroom cloud went up behind her, and both Jake and Morgan burst into peals of laughter.

"More lighter fluid! More lighter fluid!" he could hear Jake yell.

"How, uh…" He cleared his throat and tried not to openly stare at his boy. "How was it?"

His best friend beamed proudly. "Jake scored the most three-pointers on his team and PC High beat Lakewood by ten points, all in the fourth quarter. It was a great game. Hey, why don't you come in? Stay for dinner. Jake can tell you all about it."

Jason sighed and pocketed the disc. It would join his growing collection in the safehouse he shared very infrequently with Elizabeth; it wasn't safe to keep it in his penthouse where someone might lift it and, seeing Jake Webber, start asking some questions.

"You know I can't do that, Carly."

She continued to look just a little hopeful. "But what's the harm? We can say that you were just passing through, and talk always turns to sports at the dinner table – it's what I get for having three boys in the house – and you could hear all about-"

"Carly." He gave her a sad but firm look. "I don't think I should."

She sighed and folded her arms across her chest. "Fine. Just, uh…enjoy the game. It's a really good one. Spinelli got all of Jake's shots, kept the camera on him the whole time."

"More lighter fluid! Do it again!"

Another mushroom cloud went up and the boys howled. Carly frowned over her shoulder and was about to say something when her husband, who finally finished up his work and came out through the screen door, beat her to it.

"BOYS! WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? DO YOU KNOW HOW DANGEROUS THAT IS?!"

Morgan tossed the now-empty bottle of lighter fluid over his shoulder as Jax kicked the door open and crossed the deck. "Run!"

Jax snarled and chased them down as the boys ran toward the gate. They each gripped the wire-mesh fence with one hand and hopped it easily, barreling toward Carly and Jason who were standing on the sidewalk.

"I'll help you, Daddy," Cecily could be heard saying. Jax turned around to see his daughter uncap a white plastic bottle. "Lemme just squirt the coals a little…"

"No, CeeCee, honey, not the lighter fluid!"

The boys forgotten, Jax ran toward his daughter as the boys hit the sidewalk.

"ByeMomSorryGonnaHaveDinnerAtMrs.Webber'sTonightBeHomeAtCurfew!" Morgan called out. Jake jostled Jason slightly as they ran past him, pounding down the sidewalk toward Elizabeth's rented house in the distance, and Jason stumbled back a step as Carly stared after them, baffled.

Michael glanced up from his cell phone. "I can have both their burgers, right?"

Carly glared at him and then reached out and took Jason's hand. "No. Turns out, your uncle's staying for dinner."

* * *

"You asshole," Morgan laughed, kicking his best friend's knee. It was eleven o'clock and he was sprawled out on the couch in his father's penthouse while Jake took up the armchair by the wet bar. "I bet you thought you'd have Amalia putting out by now and you're pissed that she isn't."

Jake laughed despite himself and swirled his scotch around in the glass. "No, that's not at all what it is."

"You just can't imagine that she isn't already worshipping at your altar like the others," he teased. "I swear, man, you did it to yourself. Girls talk, and Amalia knows all about how you play. You'll be lucky if you ever get some from her."

It was late one Friday night, and Morgan was spending the week with his father. Sonny had cooked the boys a magnificent pasta dinner, read the paper while they played CounterStrike, and excused himself to go to the warehouse for a quick meeting. When he left, the boys ordered in dessert and were finishing the evening off with a little night cap from Morgan's father's wet bar.

It wasn't something they did often, but Jake was partial to both scotch and whiskey after sneaking some at Lucky's apartment a year earlier and since Sonny was out of the latter, they settled on the former.

"She'll give it up."

"I don't see why she would," Morgan reasoned. "She's the old-fashioned type. Gets it from her dad. She's gonna want something steady and exclusive, which is the last thing in the world you want."

"Please," Jake snorted. "She's been in love with me since we were kids."

His best friend rolled his eyes. "With your meek, humble nature, who could blame her?"

"Exactly."

"And I'm pretty sure your telling me that she's been in love with you for years – nothing all of us didn't know, but still – lands you solidly in Jerk Territory."

"Hey, when did I ever say that I _wasn't_ a jerk?"

"Do you have no shame whatsoever?"

"Sometimes I do, but I stamp it out real quick." He winked at Morgan and took a sip of the scotch. "Shame gets you nowhere."

"Whereas if you're a cocky bastard, the whole world will fall at your feet."

Jake grinned proudly. "Now you're getting it."

Morgan laughed, but the chuckles died when he heard the doorknob turn. Both boys looked over as the door opened in slow-motion to reveal Sonny and Jason returning from a late-night meeting. Though Jason was in charge of the business and had been slowly reconsolidating their holdings over the years in preparation of grooming Morgan to take over, he still let Sonny be involved and sought his input.

"And I was thinking," Sonny was saying, "that the strongest part of our business these past ten, fifteen years has been the coffee business and…"

He trailed off and both men stared at the boys, who stared back at them.

Morgan's grip on his glass weakened. "Uh-oh."

Bewilderment, disbelief, annoyance, irritation, and anger flickered through Sonny's dark eyes all at once. "What the _hell_ is going on here?"

Morgan's jaw was slack as he belatedly placed the half-filled glass on the table. "Uh…I can explain."

Sonny glowered at his son and over his shoulder, a muscle in Jason's jaw was beginning to tick. "Oh, yeah? You wanna try that?"

"Uh…" His dark eyes darted back and forth between his best friend and his father and his uncle. "It's not what it looks like!"

Sonny scowled and turned to the other underage drinker in the room. "Jake?"

He tapped his fingers on his glass and owned up to it. "It's exactly what it looks like."

Jason snarled and pushed past Sonny, and together the two men advanced on the boys, glad that they'd returned in time to see this. Sonny had always been slightly suspicious that he himself was an alcoholic but since rehab was frowned upon in their organization and interpreted as a sign of weakness, he went with the do-it-yourself technique and simply did his best to monitor his intake. He didn't want his son to develop the same problems later in life and that was why he felt so strongly about this.

"Are you boys insane? You're underage and you're drinking – _that_?"

Jason was similarly displeased. "What the hell were you thinking? Scotch? _Scotch?_ You're only fifteen years old!"

"Do you have any idea what that stuff does to your liver? Do you want to be an alcoholic?"

"So many people ruin their _lives_ because of that shit – is that what you want?"

"And you wait until I leave the house to raid my wet bar? You're grounded for two – no, _three_ months! You go to school, you go to practice, and then you get your ass back home!"

"We're talking to Carly and Jax about this," Jason threatened. "And Ms. Webber. They have every right to know what their kids are doing and-"

Jason's ambivalent, impersonal, almost irreverent use of his mother's surname irritated Jake, and he plunked the glass down loudly on the wet bar, drawing their attention. His blue eyes glittered with defiance and the barest hint of a challenge as he tipped his chin up at his father.

"Look, not to break into your righteous, justified anger and disrupt your flow," he said tersely, waving his hand in a deliberate gesture of feigned boredom. "I can totally get why Mister C's freaking out, and he has every right to, but I'm not your responsibility, so what do _you_ care?"

Both Jason and Sonny stopped, rigid, trembling with anger but pathetically lacking in words. Morgan gulped and glanced at his best friend, finding from his stiff posture and the small muscle rippling in his jaw that Jake was not even close to backing down.

"Because – Because if it's just me freaking out, then you two idiots outnumber me," Sonny barked, his equilibrium thrown from Jake's interruption. Jason snapped his mouth shut, his best friend having saved him, and stood back as Sonny advanced.

"I'm very, very disappointed in you boys," he told them. "Jake, get your things. Max will take you home and in the morning I'm calling your mother. Morgan? Ass upstairs. _Now_."

Morgan shot his friend an apologetic look and stood as Jake did the same. He picked up his letterman jacket from the back of the couch and slung it over his arm as Morgan trudged up the stairs. When passing Sonny, he leaned in just slightly.

"For the record, you don't have to worry. We weren't drinking the good stuff." He tipped his head at the wet bar as Jason balked. "The twenty-five-year-old scotch you've got hidden in the secret panel is still there. I'm a lot of things, but a rude guest is not one of them."

Something flickered in Sonny's dark eyes – irritation, amusement, perhaps an unlikely combination of the two – and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Just go."

Jake mock-saluted the men with two fingers and let Max walk him to the elevators.

"Secret panel?" they heard the bodyguard ask the boy. "In the wet bar? Really?"

"You let me drive the Escalade home, I'll tell you how to get into it."

"Nice try, kid, but no."

He could see Jake shrug as the two stepped onto the elevator. "Hey, I figured, one of these days, my attempts at bribery will work."


	12. Hard To Get By Just Upon A Smile

**Note – **I love Cat Stevens so much. And I love Yousef Islam more, for obvious reasons. Hee.

**-Mean-**

**-11-**

_Oh, baby, baby,_

_It's a wild world._

_It's hard to get by_

_Just upon a smile._

-- "Wild World," Cat Stevens

They were horsing around by the pool tables when Jason came in around ten-thirty, and an hour had passed since. He hadn't joined in on a game, he hadn't picked up a dart, he hadn't made small talk with anyone. He just sat at his booth in the back, cold beer in hand, and watched Jake and Morgan play.

They were both piteously underage at fifteen. This sort of thing would never have been allowed back when Jake was running the joint. He still remembered Emily, Lucky, Juan, and Elizabeth trying to sneak in to see Thirty-Two Degrees or whatever that damn boy band was called. Jake only let them in for the show when Jason asked her to, and even then, she wasn't pleased.

Coleman was a lot more lax about it. He was serving up drinks, refilling peanut dishes, and polishing glasses at the bar while the boys played, not even seeming to care that there were underage kids in his bar.

He saw Jake glance at his watch. "Okay, dude, we're cutting it pretty close. Mom said she'd be back from her date around midnight, so we'd better get back to the house."

"It's cool if I crash at your place tonight, right? Mom and Jax are knocking down the wall of Mike's room and adding it to the office, so the place is a mess and smells like shit."

"It's fine." Jake tossed his cue down and waved at the bartender. "Later, Coleman. We're out."

"You guys got a ride home?"

Morgan shook his head. The Webbers only had one spare car for Jake and Cameron to share, and tonight was Cameron's night. Besides, he and Jake were still technically grounded, and their parents thought that the two of them were cooped up in the Webber house since school let out. "We walked here – took the shortcut. Night, Coleman."

"See you little dudes around. Say hi to the folks for me. 'Specially that hot mama of yours, Webber. She on the market yet?"

"She's priced way out of your range," he remarked dryly as he and Morgan headed out the back door. "Better stick to the rent-by-the-hour goods."

"Touché, kid. I'm saving my pennies for a rainy day, anyway."

Jason waited until the boys left the bar before he stood and stalked over to the counter. Coleman, who was polishing a glass, looked up in mild surprise when he sat down on a stool and glared at him.

"What the hell's the matter with you, don't you check for I.D. anymore? Do you have any idea how old they are?"

And besides, those rotten boys were grounded, anyway. They had no business being out in public, having a good time. They were kids: they were supposed to be in their rooms…reading or something.

"They're in high school," he replied. "I know that."

Jason stared at him. "Then why do you let them in here?"

Coleman shrugged. "They don't do nothing. They come in, they hang out, they order some food. I never serve them any booze, anyway. Jax came around once and asked if I could let the boys hang out here sometimes if they wanted to."

"You could lose your license," Jason pointed out.

He tossed him a wink and set the glass down. "Jax also said he'd help if that came to pass. I get a nice tip when he pays his son's tab for the month – buffalo wings and cheese fries tab, that is – and they're good kids, so I figure it's a win-win. Oh, look."

He picked up a white and navy baseball cap that had been left on the counter and brushed off the autographed bill. "Little Jake Webber left his hat here. The bean sprout hardly goes anywhere without this thing. Got it signed by the star pitcher, you know. That's an authentic signature right there, none of that mass-marketed crap."

Jason studied the hat, considering his options, and a little smirk made his lips curl as he reached out and took it from Coleman. "I think I'll return it to him. Thanks."

Coleman shrugged again, not particularly understanding the smug look on the mob lord's face, and figured it was better not to ask. "Whatever. Knock yourself out, man."

The baseball cap was tucked away in his breast pocket, right against his heart, and Jason revved the engine while stopped at a red light. His son decided none-too-wisely to disavow the grounding sentence and sneak out of the house with his best friend while his mother and brother were out, and he chose the exact bar where Jason himself had been around to catch him in the act. And now he had his hat as proof.

This would almost be fun.

And if nothing else, it would give him an innocuous excuse to be under the same roof as Jake and Elizabeth again.

He smiled to himself and revved the engine again, willing the light to turn green. There was no one on any other side of the intersection, for Christ's sake, and he felt like an idiot sitting on a light on an empty street late at night.

It turned green and Jason let go of the brake, about to gun it into gear when two figures darted out into the road almost in front of him. They stopped when they saw him, and in the glare of the headlights, Jason could make out his son and his nephew. Morgan stared at him like a deer in the headlights, his mouth open, but Jake was quicker and up to the challenge. Their identical blue eyes locked, held, and the corner of their mouths kicked up.

The game was on.

Jake slapped Morgan's arm and the two of them raced down the crosswalk to the other side of the street. Jason gunned the gas and turned onto the road that led all the way down to the Webber house, determined to beat them there. The boys would never beat him on foot, and when he glanced to his left he was surprised to see that they'd disappeared from sight.

He handled the curve effortlessly and in doing so, caught a glimpse of the boys tearing through a neighbor's yard and upsetting the family dog in the doghouse. They narrowly avoided being bitten as the animal nipped at their heels and scaled the wire mesh fence easily, hitting the ground on the other side.

Another curve, and this time a stop sign. Jason growled and skidded to a roll, then gunned the gas again. He could see the Webber house now and saw a car coming down the other side of the road, most likely Elizabeth, back from wherever it was that she had been.

The sound of garbage cans clanging and dogs barking followed him as he tore down the quiet street, slowing only when Elizabeth pulled into the driveway. He brought the bike back down from its dangerous speed, knowing the boys were most likely in the back yard already, the little sneaks, and coasted the rest of the way down the street.

She was at her door, purse under her arm, fumbling for her keys under the porch light. Jason could see that she was dressed up, wearing a berry-hued dress with her hair down in fat curls, and drank in the very sight of her as he slowed to a stop, practically colliding with the mailbox because he was too busy paying attention to her. He didn't begrudge Elizabeth her right to date, (after all, they both had been forced to move on with their lives) but he pettily hated that some other man was on the receiving end of her beauty and her spirit and her attention.

Elizabeth had the door partially shut and was inside the house as he bounded up the lawn and rapped his knuckles against it, pushing the door open. She turned and squeaked in surprise when she saw him there, and paled instantly.

"Jason?" Her wide eyes scanned him quickly as he stepped inside. "What are – why – is everything okay?"

He nodded hurriedly. "Everything's fine. Where're the boys?"

"Uh…" Her mouth flapped open and shut like a fish out of water, and it was clear that she was bewildered. "Um, Cam's out on a date and Jake's upstairs, probably with Morgan. Why?"

"Jake's not upstairs," Jason told her, wincing when he heard a dog howl. Those stupid boys… "I mean, he might be, but he wasn't there all night. He was at Jake's with Morgan."

Elizabeth's brows pulled downward and she crossed her arms over her chest, not realizing that the gesture emphasized her breasts more. "What are you talking about? He's grounded for that stunt he pulled at Sonny's. He's upstairs – he hasn't been anywhere tonight. I'll show you."

Jason strode into her foyer as Elizabeth headed up the stairs and then, thinking better of it, walked back over to the door, wiped his feet on the mat, and entered once more. He followed her up, staring rather shamelessly at her bottom and taking in the mesmerizing sway of her hips with unabashed interest.

"Honestly," she was grumbling, "barging into my home and telling me my boy's not where I know he is. Jake? Jake!"

Jason hopped up the last step and heard his son's voice.

"Yeah, Mom?"

Elizabeth looked at him pointedly over her shoulder as if to say, _you see? _and knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"

His son's voice sounded suspiciously out of breath when he chirped, "Sure, Mom, come on in."

She pushed open the door and held it so that Jason could see into it. Morgan and Jake were sprawled out on the carpet by an open window – the escape and the return route – with a deck of playing cards and an open pack of M&Ms.

"Morgan's here," Jake explained unnecessarily. "I said it was cool if he took the floor here tonight. We'll just walk to school together in the morning. As long as that's okay with you, Mom. Oh, hi, Jason."

The men locked gazes again, and when Elizabeth turned to look up at Jason, Jake smiled wickedly. He had won, but Jason wasn't about to let him go that easily. After all, he disobeyed his mother's rules, broke curfew, and decided to horse around at a bar while underage. And Jason had the proof with him.

He felt bad doing it, almost, but someone needed to show Jake that he couldn't do whatever he wanted just because he was good at covering his tracks. That wasn't the way he wanted his son raised.

"What are you doing here?" he asked politely.

Jason arched a brow. "Just in the neighborhood."

"Huh." Jake clucked his tongue and dealt the dealer a card before putting another face up between him and Morgan. He tossed two M&Ms into the pot and Morgan raised him one, which Jake obliged. "Pretty far from _your_ neighborhood, isn't it?"

"Jake." Elizabeth folded her arms over her chest and looked sternly down at her youngest child. "Never mind about Jason. I want you to be honest with me."

Jake blinked and, with perfectly practiced innocence, set down his cards and respectfully sat up, resting his hands on the knees of the soft plaid pajama bottoms he was now wearing instead of his blue jeans. "Sure, Mom."

She looked up at him and Jason nodded. "Jason says that he saw you and Morgan at Jake's tonight."

The boys looked at each other in open-mouthed horror (personally, Jason thought that was a little contrived) and Elizabeth continued. "I don't know what to think about this, Jake. You know very well that after Sonny caught you drinking, you boys were both grounded for three months. We decided to be nice and let you serve your time in the same house on occasion, and you know better than to take advantage. And I'm sure Jason is mistaken when he says you were out tonight."

"I'm sure he is, too," Jake replied, looking solemnly up at his father. "You might have seen two other guys our age, Jason. Lots of kids from our school like to hang out at Jake's whenever they can sneak past Coleman. Maybe you saw a couple of them tonight and thought it was us."

Jason leaned a hip against the doorjamb. "You're a little out of breath, there."

Jake gestured to the window. "Some idiot decided to burn wood out in his yard at this hour, and the smoke got in here. Nearly coughed up a lung. Morgan, I told you to close the damn window."

"Jake, language."

"Sorry, Mom." His shrewd eyes darted over to Jason. "You never answered my question, Jason. Are you sure it was me and Morgan you saw tonight?"

He tipped his chin toward the bed and ignored the smug question. "That the leg of your jeans sticking out under there? Almost as if you took them off in a hurry when you changed into your pajamas just now?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Jason, he's not that dumb."

"Boys that age can be pretty dumb," he disagreed, turning his attention back to his son. "Well?"

Jake grimaced and reached under the bed, pulling out not only two pairs of jeans but a balled-up t-shirt and exactly seven rolled up socks. "Ew. How long have these been here? …Mom?"

"Oh, for God's sake…" Elizabeth rolled her eyes again and marched forward, taking the laundry from her son. "Why don't you pay attention when I teach you how to use the machine? Your brother picked it up just fine."

"My clothes always come out cleaner when _you_ wash them," he replied, looking up at her so sweetly that Elizabeth just had to smile.

Jason swore under his breath – really, it was unbelievable how Elizabeth was wrapped up around Jake's finger – as both mother and son turned to look at him.

"Well, Jason?" Elizabeth arched a brow at him, trying not to let herself think about how easy it was to fall into this domestic, parenting routine with her ex-fiancé. This could have been the life they shared, instead of a handful of scattered meetings at a safehouse these past fourteen years after their broken engagement. "Anything else? It's getting kind of late."

He glared sternly at Jake and reached inside his leather jacket. "Just one more thing."

The way his son's jaw dropped when he produced his navy baseball cap earned Jason no small measure of satisfaction.

"He left this at Jake's. I told Coleman I'd bring it by."

Elizabeth set the laundry on the desk and took the hat from him, examining it. "…Jake, this is yours."

She turned on him, her expression tight and stern. "You _were_ out tonight, despite the fact that I was _very_ clear about your being grounded. And you went to Jake's?! What business do you have being in a bar, young man? You've got six years to go before that sort of thing is acceptable. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Morgan turned to Jake, careful not to give anything away, and the young man frowned at the hat in his mother's hand. "Mom, I don't know what to tell you…"

She huffed under her breath. "I thought as much."

"Except that…" He gestured to the cap. "That's not my hat."

Jason's lips parted in surprise. "What – what are you talking about? Of course it's your hat. I saw you put it on the counter when you and Morgan ordered food. Coleman recognized it as yours, too."

Elizabeth looked down at it. "And it has the signature on the bill, too. How can you expect me to think that this isn't yours?"

He shrugged and crossed over to his dresser. Pulling out the second drawer, he removed an autographed blue hat and held it up. "…Because my hat's right here. I don't know whose Jason grabbed, but…this one's been sitting right here the whole time."

Morgan's expression was perfectly serene, carefully held in place as Jason gaped at Jake. Elizabeth blinked a few times, then looked down at the hat in her hand and the hat in his.

"Oh."

Awkwardly, she held the clearly inauthentic hat out to Jason. "I, uh, I guess you were mistaken, Jason."

He stared down at it, knowing that it was Jake's, and then looked up at his boy. "But – but -"

"Easy mistake," Jake allowed generously. "I mean, I do wear this thing all the time, so how could you not think it was mine? Especially if you thought you saw me there. Which I wasn't, because I'm grounded and I wouldn't disobey my mom like that," he added, purely for Elizabeth's benefit. "Neither would Morgan."

Jason wanted to kick something when he saw her expression soften, and Elizabeth crossed the room and kissed her son's cheek, affectionately tousling the dark blonde hair he wore just a little long.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry, I should have known. Tell you what, I'll talk to Carly and maybe you boys can come out to dinner with us when Michael comes home tomorrow afternoon. How about that?"

The boys perked up in practiced excitement. "Wow, Mom, that'd be great. You really think you can get Mrs. Jacks to make an exception?"

"I think I can," she replied, giving them one last smile. "Okay, it's late, and you boys should already have been in bed. That's enough excitement for one night. Morgan, you've got a toothbrush here, right?"

He nodded dutifully. "Yup. And I'll take Jake's sleeping bag. We'll be fine."

"All right." She turned to Jason. "Don't you have something to say to the boys?"

Jason frowned. "No."

"Jason…" She arched a brow sternly at him. "Maybe something you're forgetting? Something that starts with an I'm and ends with a sorry?"

His lips parted in surprise. "You can't honestly expect me to apologize to them!"

"I can and I do," Elizabeth replied stubbornly.

"Elizabeth." Jason planted his hands on his hips and did his best to look equally stern. "You can't pull that Mother stuff on me. I'm not apologizing to them. I don't know how, but they're lying. They _were_ at Jake's tonight and-"

"Obviously, they weren't." She shook her head and flashed the boys an apologetic look. "I'm going to bed. We have work and school in the morning, and it's late. I hope you'll do the right thing, Jason."

He stared at her in complete and utter bafflement as she patted his arm and moved past him, heading down the hall and into her master bedroom where she shut the door. Jason snarled and looked at the boys, both of whom were grinning at him.

Jake pulled the drawer open and pulled out not one, not two, but three extra hats perfectly identical to the other two in every way, except for minor variations in the signature. He and Morgan met up with the star pitcher after an awesome game and the man had been very amused by Jake's reason to get him to sign five identical baseball caps. He did as he was requested and told Jake to live large, and that he liked his rebellious spirit.

The look on Jason's face had been priceless, and Jake half-wished he had a camera handy just then to snap a picture. Jason had better get used to that feeling, because it would sneak up on him with alarming frequency soon enough. And it served him right, too. He had absolutely no right coming into their house and trying his hand at parenting for all of five seconds.

Jake's eyes glittered harshly as he held the hats up to his father's bewildered stare. "You're gonna have to do a lot better than that to trip me up, Jason."

He did his best not to smile, but was damned if a little smirk didn't ruin the whole stern effect he was going for. Jason cocked a brow at his son and held up the hat he'd recovered from Jake's.

"Just for that?" He slipped it into his breast pocket as his son's smile slowly faded. "I'm keeping this one."


	13. The Gun's Too Hard

-Mean-

**Note – **I know a lot of you are frustrated with Jake, and that's good, because it's what I intended. But be aware that there's a character change planned in these next few chapters as he leaves his teenage years. He can't be a punk-ass little shit forever. :-P

**-Mean-**

**-12-**

_If there's a bomb in your hand_

_Just throw it;_

_If the gun's too hard _

_Just run._

_This place is filled with sickos,_

_This place is filled with sickos._

-- "Sickos," The Harlem Shakes

"Coleman." Jake smacked his palm down on the countertop, making the bartender turn his way. "Whiskey sour for the man this bar was named after."

"Pepsi with lemon, coming right up. And I think _you_ were named after the bar, pint-size, not the other way around."

Jake half-grimaced, half-smiled at his dry remark and wagged a finger at Coleman. "You're a principled man, and you don't bullshit me. I can respect that. I oughta buy you a drink some time."

"Age six years, and then we'll talk," Coleman smirked, sliding his soda down the counter. "Hell, I have a feeling that by that time, you'll be my best customer."

"Wouldn't doubt it," Jake muttered under his breath, grabbing his drink and heading over to where Morgan was sitting with Jason and Sonny. His best friend wasn't expecting him, and Jake enjoyed the surprised looks on Sonny and Jason's faces as he plunked down in the empty seat right next to Morgan.

"Hey." His best friend perked up, leading Jake to believe that he was sitting through another dreary conversation with his father and uncle where the two men broached for the millionth time the possibility of him taking over the business. "What are you doing here? I thought your mom was upholding the grounding for the final two weeks."

Jake smirked and took a sip of his drink. "I unclogged the gutters, washed her car, mowed the lawn, fixed the sink in her bathroom, and took Teague to the groomers'. I'm officially a free man. Thank God, I couldn't handle that jailbird shit anymore. Was about to go out of my damn mind."

Morgan smirked and sipped his club soda. Jake was always immensely profane when he was around Jason. It amused him to be able to use that kind of language around his father since Jason couldn't say anything, whereas Elizabeth would have threatened to wash his mouth out with soap, even at fifteen years old.

"I know what you mean, it's good to see the light again."

Jake snorted. "Tell me about it. You know what I stooped to doing these past two and a half months? Reading shit. Like, quality, educational shit, man. Thank God that's done with and I can buy my Playboys at the drugstore again like a normal human being."

He was just putting them on. Jake, a sophomore at PC High, busted his ass to get the excellent grades he did, so the studying he claimed to be doing while grounded was no joke. As a measly underclassman, he was the star of the junior varsity basketball team, an honor roll student, and the vice president of the entire student council. Morgan wasn't doing that bad for himself, either: he was a good student, the captain of the junior varsity soccer team, and their class president. Whereas Morgan's parents constantly bragged about it, Jake kept his achievements quiet and requested Elizabeth do the same.

"And you boys learned your lesson, right?" Sonny's obsidian eyes darted back and forth sternly between the boys. "No more drinking until you're twenty-one."

"Except the customary glass of wine with dinner," Jake added, feigning seriousness.

"Jake!"

"For the antioxidants! I can't believe you'd deny me those!"

Morgan laughed as his father pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's just teasing, Dad. And yeah, we know better than to drink again until we're old enough."

"…We know better than to drink again and get caught." He cocked a brow at the two men. "What? I'm being honest. Don't tell me you don't remember the crap you did at our age. Just try to remember that we're only sneaking a sip of scotch now and then. It's not like we're killing people."

Sonny glared at the boy, but they all knew it was in good fun. Well, as 'good fun' as making jokes about homicides could be.

Taking mercy on his best friend's father, Jake turned to his own. "So, Jason."

Jason twirled his beer bottle on the table and caught it. "So, Jake."

"Caught the headline in the paper today," he said amiably enough. "Congratulations."

Jason blinked. "On…"

"On the new territories you acquired," his son replied. "You bought up some land on the waterfront that expands your current holdings to the west. Congratulations."

He swallowed roughly, not particularly liking the words 'waterfront' and 'holdings,' with their many connotations, coming out of his son's mouth. "Thanks."

"I mean it," Jake continued, raising his glass to him in a mock toast. "I mean, it's encouraging to see. It's good for you that you made this business your life's work and that you have so much to show for it now."

And then he downed the soda in one go, leaving Jason to ruminate on that.

* * *

"You went _where_?!" Elizabeth Webber was practically beside herself with anxiety, disbelief, and anger when Jax swung by to drop Jake off after a long day the three men spent together. "Are you joking? You'd better be joking!"

Jake, who had never seen his mother get quite this worked up before, tried to calm her down as Morgan and Jax exchanged guilty looks. "Mom, seriously, it was no big deal-"

"No big deal?" She turned her back on him and ran a hand through her hair. "You went to a target range and shot a rifle all day long and you're telling me it was no big deal? What have I always told you? You _know _how I feel about guns, Jacob Martin Webber!"

Oh, God, she was going to cry. She was going to burst into tears in her living room as Morgan, Jax, and her son looked on. Elizabeth had no idea when Morgan invited Jake to spend the day with him that her baby boy would be picking up a gun and shooting it.

…Just like his father.

Lucky carried a gun, and she knew Jax carried one recreationally as well. He hunted occasionally and enjoyed target practice, and her former-father-in-law Luke had his own collection of firearms going. But still, she had never been able to disassociate guns and the mob in her mind, and the very symbol was to her a painful reminder of why she couldn't be with Jason, why her son couldn't know his real father.

And now Jake was standing there, a half-filled-in brochure with a membership request for the NRA sticking out of his back pocket, and she was going to cry.

"Mom, I know you're upset, and I'm sorry." His vivid eyes, identical to Jason's, pleaded with her to understand. "I didn't mean to make you angry. I didn't even know where we were going when we left this morning."

"Let me." Jax stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Jake's shoulder. He had known Elizabeth for years – hell, they'd almost shared a child – and he knew that if nothing else, she saw him as a logical, sensible man that would never endanger anyone of his own will. And he fully intended to play that up.

"Elizabeth, this excursion was my idea." His eyes were sober and bore into hers as Elizabeth nibbled her lower lip. "My father got me and Jerry started on long-range target practice when I was younger than these boys, about ten or eleven out in the bush. It's something that I've always wanted to share with my own boys, but Michael was never much into the idea, for obvious reason…"

He trailed off and awkwardly gripped the back of his neck. "And when Carly and I broached the subject to Morgan, he was excited about it. So I thought it might be fun if Jake came along too sometime and learned with him."

"I don't like the idea of my son handling firearms," Elizabeth told him quietly, not backing down from her original stance. "They're unsafe, they're dangerous, and boys their age should _not _be anywhere near them."

"I entirely agree," Jax assured her. "You know my stance on guns and violence is not all that different from yours. But I know the people that run this target range. They take very good care of it, they follow strict safety protocols, they're very selective about the members they let in, and they keep their weapons in excellent condition so there are as few mishaps as possible. The boys and I sat through an hour-long lecture on gun safety and technique before they were allowed to pick their rifles up, with proper ID, of course. And then we went out to the field out back and shot at clay discs for most of the day."

He moved forward and gently rubbed her arm in assurance. If he had to take a guess, he could figure out what was going through her head at this time. Being the mother of Jason Morgan's child was its own kind of baggage. "Elizabeth, I promise you, the boys were never in any danger. You know I would never let them do anything even remotely dangerous on my watch. I was with them the whole time – I didn't even pick up a weapon of my own because I wanted to be able to devote my full attention to them.

"Please," he added as she started to relent. "Don't blame Jake. He had absolutely no idea what was going on until we were at the range. This was my idea. Don't hold him responsible for it."

Elizabeth looked up at him for a long moment before remembering that Morgan and Jake were still in the room. "Boys, I'd like you to go upstairs, please."

They exchanged anxious looks and Morgan led the way to the stairs, and they both trotted up to Jake's bedroom. She waited until she heard his door close before letting out the breath she'd been holding.

"Jax, I can't deal with the thought of him picking up a gun. I just…"

"I know." He sat with her when she wearily flopped down on the couch. "In retrospect, I absolutely should have asked your permission first. But it's been something that I've been doing with Morgan for a while now, and he was the one that suggested picking up Jake when we were driving by your house so I thought, why not? You know that I've practically come to think of him as one of my own brood over the years."

She smiled weakly. "I know. It's wonderful of you, really. He thinks of you guys as family, too."

"You know that I would never put him in danger," Jax emphasized, "just like I would never want to do anything to upset you this much."

"It's one of my demons," Elizabeth admitted, clasping her hands between her knees. "Guns. Violence. My son. His father. Something I've always worried about, something I've always been terrified of. I tried very hard not to let it run my life but just the visual of Jake holding a gun…"

"He was pretty good," Jax tried, managing a lop-sided smile. "I don't know if that helps or not, but he was a good shot."

Elizabeth half-laughed, half-groaned, and socked him in the arm. "It doesn't."

He laughed along with her and wrapped an arm fondly around her shoulders. "Look, all I'm saying is, he's not running out to become a mob lord or join the army. He shot a few clay discs. He learned about how to clean a gun. That's all. It's not like we've unleashed some sort of monster here."

"I know that," Elizabeth replied quietly. "And I'm willing to admit that maybe I overreacted a little. I probably scared Jake plenty. I'll deal with him later. But if it's all the same to you, Jax, I'd prefer you didn't take him out shooting with you and Morgan again."

He withdrew his arm from her shoulder and nodded. "I understand."

And the nicest part, Elizabeth slowly realized, was that he truly did.


	14. Bracing For This Coming Day

**Note – **So there is absolutely no confusion, Jake is not misleading Morgan in the first scene here. He's 100 spot-on. He's not trying to discredit his best friend or anything like that.

**-Mean-**

**-13-**

_Strike a match_

_And watch me burn_

_All of our victories in turn._

_We're bracing for this coming day._

-- "A Cadence of Sorts," Rooks and Pawns

"You want me to get him out of here?"

Jason scowled when Sonny looked up at him. "No. That'd just make it more obvious."

They were currently attending a business function at the Graystone, the country manor Sonny retained. It was a good opportunity for fifteen-year-old Morgan to meet the other associates that he would one day be working with (and against). The only problem was that Morgan apparently threw a tantrum when his father informed him of his social engagement on Friday night and insisted that Jake be allowed to attend as well because he wanted at least one friend there.

Sonny had agreed, and the first Jason heard of it was when he walked in half an hour late – as a mob lord, he could do that – and saw his son standing on the terrace chatting with one of the Five Family heads.

It had been the worst kind of shock, but there was nothing to be done about it. So he sulked with his drink all night, keeping an eye on his son as he mingled with one dangerous, ruthless, blood-thirsty man after another, talking and smiling and laughing and most likely imparting a few crude jokes as fifteen-year-old boys who wanted to act much older usually did.

He needed another drink.

Jason roughly shouldered a lower-level associate on his way to the bar, and Jake simultaneously sidled up to the pretty blonde bartender for the evening.

"Hey, gorgeous," he winked, grinning at the young woman. "What say you mix me up a whiskey sour? Skip the orange slice and the straw."

She smiled prettily and replied in kind. "I'm going to need to see some ID, _handsome._"

Jake rolled his eyes. "…Pepsi with lemon."

She grinned and poured him a soda, dropping in the citrus he requested. "Aw, you're cute when you pout."

"That's harassment and molestation – I'm a minor. I oughta report you."

Jason watched the woman laugh, her mossy green eyes crinkling at the corners, and wondered what it was about Jake that always got that reaction from women. Hell, he even had his mother wrapped up around his finger and falling for his lines.

"You're just mad because you didn't get your way."

Jake grinned and took a sip of his soda. "One of these days, I swear, my finely honed flirting abilities will pay off."

"I have no doubt," the bartender smiled back. "You having fun tonight?"

"Oh, yeah," Jake replied, directing a sidelong glance at Jason. He lifted his soda in a mock toast. "It's a great party."

* * *

Jake sipped his fourth soda of the evening (the blonde bartender was taking _very _good care of him and kept sending him drinks) and kept his eyes glued to the refreshments' table. Next to him, Morgan fidgeted in the mandatory suit and tie required for the occasion.

"Well? Any brilliant gem for me to impart?"

Jake tipped his chin toward the table. "That man right there with the green handkerchief in his pocket – District Judge?"

"Yeah. Don Giagnorio's turf. He's trying to get him on the take but is having a hell of a time of it. I think Dad and Jason want to get dirt on him so that they can leverage a favor with the Don. What about him?"

"He's married, right?"

"Yeah."

The corner of his mouth hitched up. "He's having an affair with the senator's wife."

Morgan stared openly in the man's direction. "Really? How can you tell?"

"She was standing next to him while they talked to Don Giagnorio's enforcer. She handed him a crab cake and he didn't thank her."

His best friend wasn't following. "So?"

Jake let out a short breath of impatience. "You only neglect to thank someone that you're on very intimate terms with. Trust me, they're sleeping together. I bet Spinelli could dig it up in no time, now that he'll know where to look."

Morgan smirked and sipped his sparkling water, looking over when his father and uncle approached. Whereas his father was perfectly at ease this evening, Jason appeared tense and tightly drawn.

"Hey, guys." Sonny smiled at the boys and set his empty glass on a server's tray as he passed. "Morgan, have you had a chance to meet the senator?"

"Not yet, Dad, but I'm still making the rounds. And on a side note…" He leaned slightly closer to his father and uncle. "I think I have something you'll both be interested in."

Jason arched a brow. "Yeah?"

Morgan discreetly gestured to the state prosecutor and the woman at his side. "Judge Atkinson and Mrs. Kent. I'm pretty sure they're having an affair."

Sonny's eyes bulged and he and Jason both glanced at the couple in question, taking care not to be too obvious about it. "What makes you say that?"

"They were standing together, and when she handed him a crab cake, he didn't thank her." Morgan's dark eyes glittered insidiously. "Don't you see? You only forget to thank people that you're on very close, intimate terms with. Like, I don't thank Mom when she hands me stuff…and neither does Jax. And since the two of them aren't related or even rumored to be friends…"

He trailed off, letting the men draw their obvious conclusions, and a slow smile spread across Sonny's lips. He squeezed Morgan's shoulder and grinned at Jason. "See? Didn't I tell you? Does my kid have great instincts or what? He'll be a natural at this business."

Jason nodded awkwardly and tugged on his ear. "…I'll put Spinelli on it. Uh, good catch, Morgan."

Jake just smiled.

* * *

"Everyone, if I could have your attention, please."

Cameron Webber looked around the large banquet table at the Port Charles Grille and waited for the guests to quiet down. Since he was the one graduating from high school this year, his mother insisted that he take the seat at the head of the table, and he had done so reluctantly. Elizabeth sat at his left, Jake at his right, and the Drakes, the Jacks', the Cassidines, the Zaccharas, and Molly and Kristina filled out the rest of the table. Alexis was conspicuously missing but she had business that she couldn't get out of. Besides, she and his mother weren't particularly close anyway and from the gossip around town, it had everything to do with how Alexis Davis tried to win custody of him and Jake for Lucky Spencer.

"Thank you." He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked around, slightly unnerved by the faces staring up at him. He wasn't used to being the center of attention and didn't handle it with the grace and effortless ease (and cockiness) that Jake did. Instead, Cameron decided to focus mainly on his mother and brother and brave occasional, fleeting glances at everyone else.

"First, I just want to thank you guys for coming to our little celebratory dinner."

"To _your_ celebratory dinner," Jake corrected loudly, lifting up his glass of soda. Michael and Kristina, both of whom were done with college for the school year, punctuated this with whooping calls. "Quit being so modest."

Cameron playfully glared at him and unconsciously wrung his hands together. "Uh, it was really nice of you all to come out, and we appreciate it very much."

Carly whispered something in Jax's ear, and he smiled and nodded. Both were quite used to Cameron's shy demeanor that he more than made up for with his academic and extra-curricular achievements. He was in the top 5 of his class, won state conferences for track his last two years on the team, won third place at the regional science fair recently, and was the kindest, most studious boy they knew. His only problem was his modesty.

"I, uh, I know everyone's been wondering about what I'm going to do after high school," he started hesitantly. It was quite the understatement: for the past few months, he had been relentlessly hounded by friends, teachers, and his mother first and foremost, about which school he planned to attend. "I've finally made a decision."

He cleared his throat again and tipped his chin up, already knowing how happy this would make his mother. "I've been given a full scholarship to Johns Hopkins Medical School and already found out that my AP credits get me out of my first year. I mailed off my forms and accepted the offer this morning."

Jake and Elizabeth stared at each other, open-mouthed, and immediately jumped to their feet. Elizabeth threw her arms around her son's neck – at 6'0", it was a wonder she could reach that high – and hugged him tightly. She had always hoped that her boys would grow up to be doctors, and there was no way to quantify her happiness and relief at the moment.

Cameron laughed when Elizabeth finally let go and patted his cheek, and was practically tackled by Jake immediately after. They were making quite a scene at the dignified Grille, but it didn't even matter.

"That's so awesome, Cam," Michael grinned as the rest of the adults clapped. "You're just seven hours away from me and Kay. Not too bad a drive from Baltimore to Cambridge, all things considered."

"And I hope you visit," Kristina added, wagging her finger at him. "Mike and I at least have each other around when we're homesick; you'll be all alone in Baltimore, so you have to make up for it by way of a road trip."

"I'm really excited," he confessed, his arm still around Molly's waist. "Johns Hopkins is an amazing school, and I still can't believe that I even got in, much less got a full scholarship. I'm over the moon about the whole thing."

"Wait." Carly put a temporary stop to the celebration by raising her hand and looking around at the adults. "So who wins the pool?"

Patrick scratched his head. "Good question. We all figured medical school, but we were all wrong about where."

"To be fair, we didn't even know that Johns Hopkins was being considered," Nikolas pointed out. "It wasn't even in the pot. No one picked it when we entered our bids."

Elizabeth planted a hand on her hip and glared at her so-called friends. She used the term far more loosely for some than others. "Wait a minute. You guys were placing bets on where my son decided to go to school? I don't believe this!"

"How could you not tell us you were considering Johns Hopkins?" Nadine demanded, frowning at Cameron. "I even offered to split the winnings with you."

"Nadine!"

"What?" She shifted under her husband's stare. "I was gonna split it with you, too. Honest."

"So who gets the money?" Carly wanted to know, pulling a thick wad of cash out of her purse as Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I've got the list right here of who placed on what. Maybe the person who guessed on the closest school? How far is Yale from Baltimore? I want exact mileage. Michael, get out your iPhone. And lie if you have to."

"Check the list again, Mrs. Jacks," Jake piped up. "More toward the bottom."

Carly scanned her loopy writing quickly. "Let's see…Me, Jax, Nikolas, Nadine, Morgan Kristina, Amalia, Patrick, Robin, Noah, Monica, my mom…Jake. _Jake?_ I don't remember taking…Oh, yeah."

"Jake was in on this?" Jax leaned closer to look at the list as Elizabeth glared at her unrepentant son. "…And he placed on Johns Hopkins one week ago."

Nadine wasn't pleased with this turn of events. "Hey! Cheating! We agreed on no family relations – we barely let Morgan participate."

"I didn't tell anyone," Cameron blurted out, momentarily caught up in the dispute before he remembered himself. "Honest, I didn't. Jake, how'd you know?"

He shrugged modestly and leaned across the table, plucking the wad of cash out of Carly's hands and counting the bills quickly. "Just a hunch."

Carly frowned sourly at him as he finished counting out six hundred and fifty dollars, quick as a wink. The kid was no stranger to rolls of money; he'd probably be able to guess the value of a wad from tossing it in his hand. "Yeah, yeah. You have your cash, so spill it. How'd you know?"

Jake grinned and slipped the money into his pocket. "Last week was final consideration for scholarships and university-based grants. I called up each admissions office at the schools that offered the top medical programs in the country and pretended to be working for either the local paper or the financial aid office. When I found out that Johns Hopkins gave Cam a free ride _and_ has been ranked as the second best medical university in the country for the past sixteen years, _and_ that he'd have the chance to interview for a fellowship position with their Head of Immunology, I knew he'd take it. Thank you for playing, folks. It's been a pleasure."

He moved to sit down, but Elizabeth wasn't done with her fifteen-year-old yet. "Not so fast, Mister. You're not going to be keeping that money."

"But, Mom-"

"But, Mom, nothing," she interrupted. "You know perfectly well how I feel about gambling, and your ill-gotten gains are going straight to charity."

Jake's jaw dropped. "But it's a hundred-and-fifty dollars!"

No one at the table bothered to correct him. They probably figured that if he worked that hard to dig up the dirt, he deserved to keep the money.

Besides, they were all too busy plotting out the best way to get even with him for his little stunt.

"And I expect that hundred-and-fifty dollars to be sitting on my dresser in the morning," she informed him. "I'm donating it to the AIDS fund at General Hospital and I don't want to hear another word about it. Gambling. Honestly."

Jake pouted as Elizabeth smoothed her dress and sat. As soon as she turned her back to signal the waiter for the check, he grinned at his older brother, who rolled his eyes and smiled right back.

* * *

"Coleman."

Jason and the bartender both looked over as Jake straggled into the bar later that night.

"What do you want, bean sprout?"

Jake's glare was hard and determined. "No bullshitting tonight. You have two choices: get me a neat scotch in a damn monogrammed Coke glass, or don't, and pay tens of thousands of dollars in fines and renovations when I tell my pop that your doors and windows aren't up to fucking code. It's on you."

Coleman stared him down, and Jason's eyes darted between the two as he willed the bartender to stand his ground. Finally, the man relented and pulled out a curvy glass with the _Coca-Cola_ logo etched on the side and a bottle of Royal Lochnagar. He sloshed some into the glass and passed it to Jake, who grabbed it easily and lifted it to his lips as Jason swore.

"Jake!"

They all looked up to see Commissioner Lucky Spencer enter the bar and glare disapprovingly at his son. "That _better_ not be liquor, young man. Your mother and I talked to you about this."

Jake wearily rolled his eyes. "It's soda, Pop. It's always soda, every time you caught me in here and demanded to know what I was drinking, it was always soda."

The tension melted out of Lucky's shoulders and he smiled weakly. "Okay, good. I guess I'm still a little paranoid from that stunt you and Morgan pulled at Sonny's. Hey, you guys had Cam's graduation dinner tonight, right?"

Jake nodded as Jason watched 'father' and son interact. "He got into Johns Hopkins. That's where he's going."

Lucky let out a whistle. "He'll have to take out a hell of a lot of student loans."

Jason bristled at the fact that he didn't even feign an offer to chip in and help put his oldest son through college. Jake, however, let it go, which surprised him because from his own dealings with the boy, Jake didn't seem to be the type to let anything go.

"He'll figure something out."

"I know he will," Lucky smiled.

Jake gestured to the file he held in his hands. "You busy with a case tonight?"

He nodded. "That's why I couldn't make it. I'm actually here to talk to a couple people of interest. Coleman, have you seen…this man around?"

Coleman squinted at the picture Lucky produced from his file. "Not for a few days."

Lucky put the picture back in the folder. "Mind if I talk to some of your regulars?"

"Knock yourself out. They're at the tables in the back room by the darts."

He drummed his fingers on the counter and nodded. "Thanks."

Lucky was about to leave when he remembered something and turned toward Jake once more. "Hey, one more thing…"

He set his glass down, having yet to take a single sip of the single-malt. "Yeah?"

The corner of Lucky's mouth hitched up as he looked fondly down at his fifteen-year-old. "Listen, I know things are kind of crazy right now with Cameron getting all of his acceptance letters and thinking about college. And just…I don't know, don't be averse to letting some of it rub off on you, you know? I know you're kidding and playing it cool when you say you have no idea what you want to do with your life, but it really freaks your mother out."

He affectionately tousled Jake's blonde hair. "Just try to be a bit more serious about it? For her sake?"

Jake nodded. "Don't worry about it, Pop."

"Good boy." Lucky clapped him on the back and took a step back. "See you later. Give Cam my love."

"Will do." He waited until his father left the room before he turned back around on the stool and took a big gulp of the scotch. Coleman waited for him to choke on it or cough on the spicy, smoky liquor, but Jake just let out a sigh, folded his arms on the table, and rested his chin in his hands.

He sat quietly for several minutes before he heard movement to his left, and Jake looked up to see that Jason Morgan had taken the stool right next to him. It was clear from his expression that he knew the true contents of his Coke glass.

"You shouldn't be drinking that stuff."

"I shouldn't do a lot of things," Jake snorted, before darting a quick glance up at him. "What, you gonna narc me out?"

Jason shrugged. "Figured you could have used that code excuse any number of times in the past, but you held off until tonight. Meaning something's bothering you."

Jake sighed and stared at a point among the bar glasses without really seeing it. "My brother's going to Johns Hopkins Medical School."

"I heard."

"It's all the way in Baltimore."

"Heard that, too."

He sighed again. "It's good. I mean, it's really good. He worked his ass off to get into a good school, and it's been given to him. It's all coming together for him, and I'm really happy for him, that he gets to do what he wants. Or what he thinks he wants."

Jason frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake shrugged weakly. "I don't know. Probably nothing."

"You said it," his father reasoned. "So it has to mean something."

"Look, I don't doubt that Cam wants to go into medicine," Jake started. "He told me that he wanted to be a doctor like Grampa Jeff ever since he died when we were kids. He was a doctor, Gramma Carolyn was a doctor, Grampa Lewis was a doctor, and even Great-Grampa Steve Hardy was a doctor. Plus, growing up, we always had Aunt Robin and Uncle Pat around, and they're both doctors. Cam's always looked up to them, so it didn't surprise me when he told me he wanted to be like them."

Jason drummed his fingers on his beer bottle. "…But?"

"But I'm not like him," Jake replied honestly, having yet to make eye contact. "I'm not. I wish I was, but I'm not."

"Why do you wish you were like Cam?"

His familiar use of his brother's name, particularly funny since Jason always called his mother "Ms. Webber" when he remembered to, and Elizabeth far more frequently when he didn't, didn't rankle with Jake like he half-expected it would.

He shrugged weakly. "You know him."

"Not really," Jason had to admit, although he'd spent the last fifteen years wishing it wasn't so.

"He's smart."

"I hear you're not so bad yourself."

"He's nice," Jake added. "He helps people, he's quiet, he never gets into trouble, he hardly ever lies, except to cover my ass when I'm about to get into trouble…He's the good brother."

His chest constricted at hearing his son say those words. "Jake, you're not the bad brother."

"He's the good brother," Jake repeated, without any sense of self-pity or malice. He just said it like it was the God's honest truth, an axiom of the universe, the way things were. "He's the one that's going to do exactly what Mom wants and make her proud."

Ah. There it was. It was slowly beginning to make sense. "So your mom wants you to go to medical school, too, huh?"

"Yeah."

"And you don't want to."

"Nope."

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "You know, I had the same experience with my parents. They wanted me to be a doctor and I was dead set against it. And they hated what I chose to do instead."

"Of course they would," Jake snorted, grumbling under his breath. "You joined the fucking mafia."

He didn't have a response to that.

"Mom doesn't pressure me," he continued slowly. "Or, well, she does, but it's subtle. Like she's really trying not to but almost can't help herself. I know she wants me to be a doctor, and I really want to make her happy because of everything she did for me and Cam…"

He shrugged again. "It's not easy raising kids on your own. Especially when you're a single mom with not one but two teenage boys who hit puberty at about the same time and don't have a father around to bear the brunt of it."

"Lucky-"

"Is clueless about raising kids," Jake finished flatly. "Whenever something would come up, he'd conveniently disappear because of work and let my mom handle it. Let her discipline us, let her deal with the fall out. And I was a whole lot of trouble as a kid – still am. I didn't make her life easy. I'd always try to be good for her, but inevitably I'd act out and I'd get into trouble and she'd have to deal with me on her own. Then he'd come around and tell her she did it all wrong and that he would have done it differently."

Jason snarled at that, but Jake ignored him.

"I'd do anything for her," he admitted quietly. "But I won't go to medical school. I can't. I knew ever since I was a kid that I wouldn't become a doctor. I just couldn't do it, even knowing how happy it would make my mom. And I feel like such a selfish bastard for not giving her that, but I won't do it."

He sighed and took another small sip of his scotch. "It's going to suck for her to have Cameron be so far from home. He was kind of like the man of the house when were growing up. He did all the little things around the house – keeping up the grocery list, making sure his and my rooms were clean, keeping me from getting into fights, giving me some of his school supplies when he saw I was running low, that sort of thing. He got older and took over a lot more stuff, and eventually we split it down the middle so Mom wouldn't have to do as much. She's not in any shape for that stuff anymore.

"And now he's going to be away for most of the year, and I can handle everything at home, really, I can. I've been doing housework for as long as I can remember, I'm an okay handy-man, and I can handle car repairs and that stuff. But it's gonna be hard on Mom. She was single and on her own when she got pregnant with Cameron, and he was the one that basically made her get a steady job and hold down a house. He made her grow up a bit, and it was just the two of them for some of the most important years of her life. It's gonna be hard on her to not have him at home."

Jason's gaze drifted over his son's strong profile. "And what about you?"

Jake's lips twisted downward. "It'll suck that he'll be in Baltimore. He's my only real guy family around. He's kind of been my role model all these years. Cameron was always good to everyone, and he always knew what he was going to do, and he always had a plan. Now's just his time to follow through on that, I guess."

Jason smiled softly at that. One of Elizabeth's boys was heading out into the world, and this one wouldn't be too far behind. "What about you? You have a plan?"

The seconds ticked by and he was almost troubled by the lack of response, and the way the corner of Jake's mouth twitched.

And if he had known what was going through the boy's head, Jason would have been troubled indeed. Because Jake had a plan, all right. His plan had been in the making since he and Morgan cooked it up years ago in their little tree house.

Michael was there, and though he didn't much participate in its formulation, they could tell he was interested in seeing it all play out in about ten, fifteen years. Amalia was there and helped considerably; as the heir to the Zacchara empire, she was a crucial part of their plan as an ally and she was more than willing to help. Spencer was on the periphery and to his credit, curbed his instincts to tell the boys that they really should play fair. Nikolas raised him to be ethical to a fault, and that tree house meeting where the plan was finalized had been the first time he wondered, really wondered, how far being good really got you.

Anna thought it all made a lovely story and was very excited to see it play out. Molly, who up until that point in her life had been something of a loner with no true friends to speak of, really appreciated being let in on it and promised Jake her support. The only one with misgivings had been Cameron. He fully understood his brother's need to do all that, but he felt it was upon him to remind him of their mother and how she would feel about all this.

Jake's plan was simple enough: he wanted everything that his father had picked over him, Cameron, and Elizabeth. And he would stop at nothing to get it.

"So? Do you have a plan?"

He smiled coldly at his father's gentle question and swirled the last of his scotch. "You could say that."


	15. Talkin' Bout My Generation

**Note – **Just for future reference: I'm vague about Jake and Amalia at this point, but he's not a cheater. It'll come up much later in this story in a conversation between Claudia and Amalia, but at this point we'll chalk it up to teenage angst. I hear a significant aspect of being a teenager is being an asshole. :-P I certainly wouldn't know anything about that. Hee hee.

**-Mean-**

**-14-**

_People try to put us down_

_Talkin' 'bout my generation_

_Just because we get around._

-- "My Generation," The Who

Cameron was home for the long weekend from his second year of medical school and seventeen-year-old Jake was beyond thrilled. He had the gang all assembled as soon as Cameron was washed, changed, rested, sufficiently cuddled by Elizabeth, and ready to go out.

Currently, the gang consisted of just the boys. The girls were busy doing whatever it was that girls did on Friday nights when they should have been drinking and illegally gambling, so Cameron, Jake, Michael, Morgan, Spencer, and Mal were at Jake's by themselves, more than ready to kick back, relax, and fool around like they used to.

They were so loud, too, that Sonny and Jason heard them before they even entered the bar, and Sonny let out a groan when he saw his boys and the others divvying up the peanuts to use as poker chips for a game of Texas Hold 'Em.

"I can't believe it's the first vacation after the start of the school year and those idiots pick this dive to hang out at," Sonny sighed. He waved his best friend forward. "Come on, let's go sit with them."

Jason eyed the boys warily. Jake and Cameron were seated side by side, and it was obvious how excited his son was to have his brother back home. Cameron had another growth spurt during the few short weeks he spent at John Hopkins and was now easily 6'3", with Jake catching up at 6'2 and Morgan almost there at 6'1". They looked so much like he and Max and Milo and the others used to when they first started out in this business, before the years took their toll.

"I don't think we should…"

Sonny was oblivious to his hesitance. "Come on, you know they're going to try to con Coleman into serving them drinks. We'd better keep an eye on them. Besides, maybe if we sit with them, they'll pick up on the 'uncool' vibes and leave."

Jason sighed and reluctantly followed him over to the boys' table, waiting as Sonny grabbed two chairs and pushed them into the group before taking his seat.

"Hey, guys."

The boys grinned at Sonny's transparent insertion into their circle. "Hey, Mister C."

"Cameron, it's good to see you," the former mob lord smiled sincerely. "I heard from Morgan that you got back in town earlier today. Your mother must be thrilled."

"She covered him with kisses the second he walked in the door, didn't she?" Jake pinched his brother's cheek – hard – and earned a sock in the arm. "Yes, she did. Toss in your blinds, asshole. We're fucking waiting. Jason, you in or out?"

"I'll sit this one out," Jason replied softly, seated awkwardly between Michael and Mal. "Cameron, how's, uh, how's school going so far this year? You liking it?"

"It's a major pain," he admitted, tossing two peanuts into the empty ashtray that served as the pot. "I work my butt off from dawn to dusk and I've already lost ten pounds out of the twenty I put on this summer, thanks to Mom's brownies. It's challenging, but it'll all be worth it when I make it out alive with my M.D."

"And you find a buttload of sickies waiting for you on the other side," Jake chirped cheerfully. "Who's dealer? Me? Fine."

"Mike, I've been meaning to ask, how're things at Harvard?" Mal slipped his two cards off the table and glanced at them. "This is your last year, right?"

"Yes and no," he replied, quickly looking at the ones he'd been dealt. "It's my last year of undergrad, but I'm going right back in this time next year for my MBA, so nothing will really change."

"Bet Jax is thrilled. You'll be joining his company after you get that, right?"

He nodded as Sonny and Jason looked on. "Yup. Nepotism at its finest. I'm looking forward to it, though. He's taught me so much over the years. Plus, I get to be back home afterwards, unless I decide to go to his London headquarters."

"I'm _really _hoping that I can do my residency either at Johns Hopkins Hospital or at General Hospital," Cameron admitted. "I would want to do it at Presbyterian, but it's so expensive to live in the city these days. I know the area in Baltimore and know where to find a good apartment, and of course, I know Port Charles like the back of my hand. Besides, everyone's at GH. It'll be pretty great to be working there."

Jason filed this bit of information away for later and looked over when Spencer snorted. "I don't know how great it's going to be in a matter of years," he sighed. "From what Father tells me, several board members are up for retirement and there's sure to be trouble. You might be better off doing your residency elsewhere and then coming back once the dust has settled."

Jake smirked as Cameron considered this. "I love having a guy on the inside, don't you?"

Spencer chuckled and tossed two peanuts into the pot. "Anyone else?"

"Ooh, feeling cocky," Mal muttered, picking up two of his own. "Fine. I check."

"Raise," Michael replied. The other boys obliged. "Man, it's been forever since all of us hung out together like this."

"Probably because you're too much of a big-shot to come home over the summer," Jake grumbled.

Michael allowed this. "Hey, remember when we used to play this in Jake's tree house with the M&Ms?"

"With _my_ M&Ms," Cameron muttered, kicking his brother under the table.

"You guys played Texas Hold 'Em as kids?"

Jake nodded at his father and dealt another card face up on the table. "Yup. Learned how from Mal's Grampa one Christmas when we were about five. The one on the Scorpio side, not the Drake side. It was pretty much all we did in that old thing."

"Whatever happened to it?" Mal wondered. "I remember we used to go there all the time and then we just…stopped."

Jake's eyes flicked up from his cards for the briefest of moments. "Big storm came through. Wrecked the whole thing."

"Oh, right."

"Hey, Jake." Spencer grinned and added two more peanuts to the pot. "How are things with you and Sheila? That's this one's name, right? How goes it?"

"She's hot as all fuck and lets me do whatever I want to her." He looked up from his cards and grinned as Jason balked. "It's going very well, thank you."

Michael frowned. "Last time I was here, I heard you and Amalia finally started dating."

Jason looked over in time to see his son tense. "We're not."

"I heard you two were going at it pretty hot and heavy," he continued, tossing three more peanuts into the pot and smirking when Mal folded. "What happened to that?"

Jake gritted his teeth and dealt another card face up. He'd messed that relationship up good and had avoided Amalia religiously for the past two months, which was difficult considering their high school had only six hundred students. He really didn't want to get into the gory details.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"He was his typical asshole self and screwed the whole thing up," Morgan chirped happily, dumb enough to look pleased with his cards.

"Shut the fuck up."

"What? It's true."

Jake snarled as Jason watched the scene curiously. "And just how the hell would you know that?"

"Amalia told me."

They all looked over in time to see Jake pale. "…What?!"

"She told me." He leaned just a fraction of an inch closer. "Everything. I plan to include it in my memoirs."

"What the hell right does she have telling you that shit?"

"We're friends! Why wouldn't she tell me things?"

"You're not friends! You two hated each other."

"When we were kids, and only because you made us fight for your attention." Morgan rolled his eyes and added two more peanuts to the pot, and Michael deliberated over his cards for a full minute before folding. "And she tells me stuff. She trusts me."

"Her only flaw and your only saving grace," Jake grumbled, matching Morgan's raise more out of spite than because he had good cards.

"Interesting," Mal mused, not feeling particularly charitable now that he had been forced to fold. "They're obviously not together, it obviously wasn't an amicable parting, and yet he still thinks she isn't flawed. What do we make of this, boys?"

Cameron, taking pity on his little brother, decided to change the subject. "Hey! Coleman!"

"What do you need, Doogie?"

"How about a round of drinks over here?"

"How about you put on your Big Boy stethoscope and invent a pill that ages you clowns a couple of years, and then we'll talk?"

He went back to wiping up the counter and Michael rolled his eyes. "I hate that shit."

"Michael," Sonny warned, "you know you're underage. Coleman's right not to serve you."

"I'm twenty one in three months," he burst out. "Like my liver is gonna develop super anti-alcohol abilities in three lousy months. Weak, man. The bars around campus are like that, too. Carding Nazis."

"Just get a fake ID," Jake shrugged. "Hardly an original idea. Everyone's got 'em."

"Do you?" Michael asked pointedly.

"Sure," Jake replied, as if it was no big deal. "How come you don't?"

"Can't find a good guy to make 'em," he grumbled. "They all come out looking like shit, anyway. And how'd you get an ID?"

"I know a guy," he replied mysteriously as Jason scowled, none too pleased with the idea that his son had connections. "I got mine made a while ago, but I don't really use it. Obviously, there's no place to use it in this town, where everyone knows my name and how old I am and how many ear infections I had as a baby. Sometimes, I swear, I hate having famous parents. Famous in this town, anyway."

Mal laughed. "Tell me about it. I can't even skateboard without my helmet without someone telling my mom I was being 'unsafe.' People need lives."

"People love you idiots," Sonny smirked at the boys. "That's why they keep us all informed. Although why they feel that way about you guys in the first place is a mystery…"

They all smiled as Jake finally folded and Morgan collected the peanuts in the dish. Michael, however, was still stuck on the topic from before.

"Any way your guy could hook me up? With a fake ID, I mean?"

"Sure thing, just stop by and see me before you leave." He shuffled the deck as the others picked out their blinds. "I've never had the occasion to use mine in town, but I always use it when we're out of town for ball games or stuff. And I figure it'll really come in handy during college. Basically, when I can come home drunk and not worry about making my mom cry."

Cameron scowled at his brother as he was dealt his cards. "If you've had a connection all this time, how come you never had a card made for me?"

Jake gaped at him. "…You're serious? You want one?"

"Hell, yeah, I want one!"

Jason and Sonny couldn't believe their ears. "Cameron!"

"What?" he asked, looking around the table. "What's wrong with wanting to have an occasional drink? I think it's ridiculous, to be honest. I mean, I'm old enough to vote for the man that leads our country. I'm old enough to get married. I've long since been biologically capable of fathering children. I'm old enough to drive a heap of metal that weighs two tons and could potentially cause a lot of damage, I'm old enough to go off to war and die for my country, but I'm not old enough to have a pint to celebrate when I own my finals. It's the dumbest thing."

"I had no idea you wanted one!" Jake repeated. He set his cards down on the table and pulled his wallet out. "I had one made for you and everything, but I chickened out of giving it to you because I thought you wouldn't want it. It's here somewhere…"

He opened his wallet, which Jason saw was crammed with random papers and colorful cards, and began emptying it. "Let's see…Sheila's phone number…Marina's phone number…Jamie's phone number…" He pulled out a few movie ticket stubs and added them to the pile as his father gaped.

"Uh…Camilla's phone number…Bridgit's phone number…Whoops, that one's better off not being spoken of." He winked at the group, crumpling up a piece of paper and sticking it in his pocket. It was hardly anything damning – just the receipt from the gas station when he'd filled his mother's car up two days ago – but he wanted Jason to stew and wonder about all the lascivious things he was out doing. "Ah, here we go. Here's your ID, Cam."

Cameron looked down at the card in wonder as Jason and Sonny strained to get a look. "Hey, that's my picture and everything. How'd you get it to come out so good?"

"My guy does good work," he shrugged. "Mal, show 'em yours."

Mal and Spencer both held up their cards and Morgan remained suspiciously silent. He wasn't about to come clean about owning one, especially not in front of his father and uncle. "See? These things are top-notch."

Sonny and Jason sighed in unison, and it was almost comical. Jake couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, Mister C. Jason."

Sonny looked over at him wearily. "For what?"

"For killing your fathering spirit," he replied sweetly. "I accept full blame for that. And I, in turn, blame society for it."

"Realistically, there's little we can do," Sonny relented, referring to himself and Jason. "Michael, Cameron, you're both in college. The rest of you will be this fall. We can't keep an eye on you all the time, and you're grown up now, whether we want to admit it or not. We just hope we've managed to raise you with some common sense and courtesy."

"Like not _ever_ driving drunk," Jason ground out, looking at each boy in turn.

Jake, who had heard all about his father's accident when he was around their age, nodded solemnly. "We know that. Wouldn't dream of it."

"Jake…"

"What?" He threw his hands in the air. "I'm dead fucking serious. Why do you always think I'm being sarcastic?"

Jason pretended to consider it for a moment. "Because you've been a sarcastic little shit the whole time I've known you?"

That got a grin out of his son, amazing the rest of the table that was in on the secret that bound the two Morgan men together. "You make a good point. Objection withdrawn."

"Objection withdrawn?" Michael pulled a face and tossed in his blinds. "You've been spending way too much time with Kay."

Sonny looked up at the mention of his daughter. "How's she doing? You see her around sometimes?"

"Oh, yeah," he nodded. "I mean, the business school and the law school on the Harvard campus aren't too far apart, so we'll be able to keep it up these next few years, too. We try to set a day each week where we can at least grab dinner together, catch up, that sort of thing. She's doing good. Hoping she gets the editor position on the law review. Figures it'll get Alexis off her back for at least a few months."

Sonny smirked at that, familiar with his ex-lover's persistent ways. "You'd figure she'd ease up now that she's got Kristina at her alma mater instead of Ric's."

Michael shrugged. "Parents. What can you do?"

Jake tossed two peanuts into the dish. "Mike, Cam, did you guys hear about Anna?"

They hadn't. "What about her?"

"She finished her first novel and just signed on with an agent." Jake nodded as the boys looked at him in disbelief. "Inked the contract last week. She's seriously considering not going to college and just writing full-time."

"Mom and Dad are going to _freak_," Mal muttered. "Stupid kid, I can't get her to understand that."

"We're trying to talk her out of it," Jake told Sonny and Jason. "She's stubborn, though."

"She gets it from her mother," Sonny muttered, making Jason smile. "I had no idea she was a writer."

There was a lot the two mobsters didn't know about them, but Jake had long since accepted that. Sonny Corinthos was widely known to be an egotistical ass, and since he barely cared enough to keep in regular touch with his only daughter, Jake could hardly expect him to be abreast of the developments in their lives as well.

As for his father, he was a busy man. Jason Morgan became the godfather of the syndicate right on Jake's first birthday, and with that title came great responsibility. He knew from Morgan that Jason was always busy with the business, even more so now that he and Sonny were preparing to groom his best friend to take ownership. It was the only thing that made sense: after all, someone had to run the mob after them, otherwise it would cause a power struggle and territory wars that would endanger the lives of countless Port Charles citizens whether they were connected to Jason and Sonny or not.

For his part, Jake had calmed down a bit. It took him ten whole years to run the full gamut of emotions that came from learning that Jason was his true father. He'd gone through the disbelief, the grief, the self-doubt and insecurity, the numbing depression, the raw, unbridled anger at everyone and everything. Lucky Spencer had written it off as being a teenager when Elizabeth grew worried, and Jake was relieved for that. It saved his mom some heartache.

He finally arrived at acceptance. He couldn't change the decision that Jason made all those years ago. He couldn't single-handedly fix his mother's life, and he wasn't single-handedly responsible for her unhappiness, either. Things either worked out or they didn't, and oddly enough, he learned that from Amalia. It was just one of the many things she'd taught him over their years of deep, abiding friendship, and Jake knew that it was partly because of her that he could look at his father now without wanting to punch his face in, that he didn't feel the need to constantly needle the man and make him squirm just so he could feel a little less ugly inside.

Acceptance was a good thing, because it made Jake stronger. It enabled him to focus on his real goals instead of wasting his energy on relatively futile emotions like grief and self-loathing. Petty anger was draining and a distraction; the slow burn he'd arrived at was motivating and good for him. Being focused on his goals was of particular importance now, when he and Morgan were fast approaching the most crucial point in the making of their future careers.

It was time to grow up about the whole thing. He'd been having fun with his old man these past ten years, making him squirm at every turn, turning even the most innocuous remark into a barb sure to make the man miserable inside. But that wasn't getting him anywhere, practically speaking. He still needled Jason occasionally, unable to give it up altogether, but on the whole it was time to grow up and move on as best he could. After all, he was almost a man, almost ready to strike out on his own.

And boy, would he strike.

"Last chance, Jason," he said, his fingers poised to draw out two more cards. "You in or out?"

His father paused for a moment. "…Out."

Jake shrugged and dealt the cards, rapid-fire, one after another. "Your loss."


	16. Show You What I Can Be

**Note – Jane **hit the nail on the head last time about Elizabeth. While I don't get how her falling for her son's lies in the ONE instance we see her parenting makes her Audrey, who was constantly chiding Elizabeth and Sarah, I do agree that she's more like wallpaper in this story. That's intentional. Her influence and sway with Jake lessens considerably as the story goes on (since I skipped over sooo much stuff in their youth, I haven't given you a true sense of how devoted Jake is to her, but I think that's coming up in 18 or 19) and we see how she's completely out of the loop. That's partially because Jake wants her to be, and because she is willingly wearing blinders. If her boys aren't good and safe and happy and all that, it means her sacrifices were for nothing. So damn it, her boys are good and safe and happy and all that…even if they aren't.

Also, there was a fire at the Planet, where proboards has their servers, and a transformer blew up so many servers are down and will be until likely this afternoon. I'm still posting at RTN and , though, so it's all good.

**-Mean-**

**-15-**

_Show me what it's like_

_To be the last one standing._

_Teach me wrong from right_

_And I'll show you what I can be._

-- "Saving Me," Nickelback

When the bullets came whizzing directly at Morgan, Jake didn't regret the fact that he'd agreed to come with him to meet his father and uncle on Pier 52. Instead, he was extremely glad he did.

Sonny Corinthos barely had time to yell before Jake fisted Morgan's gray PCH Varsity Soccer sweatshirt and shoved him to the ground, falling half on top of him as the bullets exploded into the bricks and pinged off the metal and wooden crates nearby.

Morgan kept his eyes tightly shut, but Jake squinted and caught sight of his father, seeking cover behind a corner and returning fire with expert speed and deadly accuracy. Sonny, crouching behind a crate, was calling for the armed guards that patrolled the warehouse to report to the scene immediately.

Eventually the hail of bullets died down and it was safe for Jake to poke his head up. He looked over at his father, who nodded, and then hopped to his feet. He was uninjured, thankfully, and reached out to help Morgan up. His best friend clasped his hand and let him haul him to his feet, and they both scanned each other for injuries. Other than a scraped elbow and a scraped knee, they were fine.

Max and Milo came running with a number of other guards coming up behind them. Jason gestured to the alley without bothering to greet them. "Birch alley, about two of them. I got one, for sure, so take care of the body. The other one can't be too far away."

"There were two on top of Pier 50," Jake piped up, shaking his head briskly to clear it. The sound of gunshots still echoed in his ears. "At least two, I mean. They've got to be on ground by now, lurking around, so watch out."

Max frowned curiously at Jake, but there was no time to be wasted on contemplation. He divided the guards up and they went off to search for any stragglers or fallen bodies. Sonny, who was uninjured, leapt to his feet and wrapped his arms around his youngest son, his hands probing and scanning him for injuries out of force of habit.

"You all right, son?"

"Fine, Dad," Morgan got out. "Jake knocked me down just in time."

Jason was staring at him with both wonder and skepticism. "How did you know to do that?"

Jake shrugged awkwardly, not even sure of it himself. "I-I don't know. We just stepped out here and I felt – I felt something weird, like we were being watched, and then I saw two dark things on top of the next pier and I–"

He shook his head, baffled by his own instincts. "I just did it. I got him down and did the same. I don't know how, but…"

All three men knew the answer to that: instincts. Jake had inherited them from one of the best, but they could hardly give voice to that particular sentiment.

Jason was trembling, either from anger or relief, Jake couldn't be sure. "You – You shouldn't even have _been_ here, Jake."

He met his gaze evenly and without flinching. "But aren't you glad I was?"

Jason stared back at him, a muscle in his jaw ticking, and scarcely dared to breathe. It killed him inside that his son had to see this, be a part of this. The whole point of giving Jake up was so that he'd never hear the sound of a gunshot coming at him, so he would never see his father take cover and aim with intent to kill. So he'd never need the sharp instincts he already had.

It disturbed him, too. Profoundly. Jake acted just as he would have, smooth and quick and fluid, not giving in to the fear for a single second. The only thought on his mind had been survival. He kept his eyes peeled, and he had a preternatural sense for picking up signs of trouble. He knew they were being watched and he knocked Morgan down without even stopping to think about it.

He had saved Sonny's son's life.

And he didn't know it, but today, Jake Webber saved the future of the Corinthos-Morgan organization.

If the hit was indeed intended for Morgan, it meant that word had gotten out that Sonny and Jason planned to start grooming Morgan far earlier than anyone had anticipated. With two great mentors, the boy was already seen as a threat and needed to be eliminated.

"You boys are going back to the penthouse right now," Sonny said, waving for two more guards that came trotting up. "You'll spend the rest of the day there. When we're sure it's safe, Jake, you'll be dropped off at your house. Morgan, you'll stay with me at least through tomorrow. I want you boys to go with our men. Now."

Jason sagged against the pillar and let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. It was all starting again. First with Michael accidentally catching a bullet in the skull, and now with Morgan being the target of a deliberate hit.

This was why the boys' friendship worried Jason. This was why he sometimes wished that Jake had never shared his fire truck. The shaken look on his face, the bewilderment in his eyes, his nerves shot on overdrive, they were the clear signs of what this business did to a person, and his son wasn't supposed to be anywhere near it.

But even though Jake was involved, at least the bullets weren't meant expressly for him. If Jason had claimed him, then they would have been.

The boys were flanked by their guards and turned to go, but at the last second, Jake turned on his heel and addressed them.

"If there's any way…" He cleared his throat, his eyes darting back and forth between Sonny and Jason. "If there's any way that we can keep this quiet, that we can keep my mom from finding out, that'd be great. She _can't_ know about this. It'd kill her."

His eyes bore into his father's, and Jason nodded slowly. "Don't worry about it."

Jake let out an audible sigh of relief and turned to go. "Thank you."

* * *

"He was right."

Spinelli clicked a few more keys on his faithful laptop and turned it so that Jason could see. "The Not So Innocent One, I mean."

He'd outgrown his need to ascribe nicknames to everyone he met, but there were a few that he hung on to, some because they were so apt, and some because he'd just about forgotten the subject's real name and it was just more convenient this way. And from all the tales of debauchery Stone Cold relayed about the Little Stone Cold, Spinelli figured that it was high time he added a "Not So" to the "Innocent One" moniker he'd given the boy when he was born.

"He said there were at least two shooters on top of Pier 50." He zoomed in on the footage still so that Jason could clearly see the outline of the additional snipers. "He was absolutely right. Good eyes on that one."

Jason closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face. "…I still can't believe he was there in the first place."

"Stone Cold, don't take this the wrong way…" Spinelli nervously cleared his throat. "But didn't you think it would be a possibility at some point, given the Not So Innocent One's friendship with the Little Corinthos? To be honest, I never understood why you decided to stay away from Jake but not Morgan."

"I couldn't stay away from Morgan," Jason sighed. "It wasn't possible. He was Sonny's kid, and everyone knew after a certain point that he'd be our top choice for the business. Michael doesn't want any part of it, and I don't blame him. The business almost killed him."

"But why do you _have_ to hand the business over to the Little Corinthos One?" Spinelli persisted. "You could just keep running it until…"

"Until what?" he asked flatly. "Until I died? And then if I didn't have a successor named and trained, there would be a war for our territories. Our enemies would bring that war to Port Charles, and Carly's family would be in danger. Even people that weren't connected to me and Sonny would be in danger. The business has to go to someone, Spinelli. And that someone's Morgan."

"I guess if you had claimed the Not So Innocent One, it would have been his one day," Spinelli murmured. "You'd hand it over to him if he wanted it."

"I want Jake far away from this life," Jason got out, pushing himself to his feet. He began to pace in the foyer, still agitated from the events of the day. "He has no place in it."

"Ironic, considering he's just across the hall," Spinelli muttered.

"He asked me to keep it quiet," Jason told him, leaning against the desk. There was a haunted look in his eyes that made Spinelli regret giving voice to his misgivings. "He didn't want Elizabeth to know. He wanted to spare her the worry and the fear."

"The Maternal One certainly wouldn't take it very well," Spinelli allowed. "I imagine she'd want to move her family somewhere else entirely if she even suspected that the Not So Innocent One was in danger."

"She needs to stay where she is." He shook his head as Spinelli began to gather up his things. "Elizabeth's whole life is here. Her sons have roots here. You're right, if she thinks they're in danger, she'll want to run. And I have to keep things quiet because I've scared her enough. Ever since we first met. She shouldn't have to leave her home fifteen years after she thought she was finally safe, finally out of it, because of me."

"I can't help but wonder how long it'll stay this way," Spinelli mused, tossing his jacket over his shoulder. His wedding band caught the afternoon sun and glittered, catching Jason's eye. That band was the one thing he'd ever been jealous of when it came to his former roommate. "Things like this have a way of getting out. If Jake continues to be as close to Morgan as he is, things like this will happen more frequently instead of less."

He shrugged and moved away from the couch. Maxie was waiting for him at him and he had some work he needed to finish up. "They can't deny it much longer, Stone Cold. And neither can you or the Maternal One. Jake and Morgan are about to head in very different directions. Morgan will take over the mob. He'll step into your shoes. And Jake…he'll go out and do whatever he wants to do. And his friendship with Morgan will change over time. It'll have to. They'll be too different."

He paused, a hand on the doorknob, and looked over his shoulder at his friend. "Like you said, Jake has no place in this life. And it's going to be hard on both of them when they figure that out. But in accordance to your beliefs and your decisions up to this point, I'm going to say it'll be for the best."


	17. But You Always Really Knew

Note – Note – A real Liason scene. :) Enjoy.

**-Mean-**

**-16-**

_If you_

_If you could get by_

_Trying not to lie_

_Then things wouldn't be so confused_

_And I wouldn't feel so used._

_But you always really knew,_

_I just wanna be with you._

-- "Linger," The Cranberries

When he saw the number on the ID, Jason nearly dropped his phone in his haste to flip it open. "Hello?"

She didn't waste time with greetings. She never did. _"Meet me at the place in an hour."_

"Is-" He swallowed roughly, and his grip on the pen he was holding tightened slightly. "Is everything okay?"

"_It's started."_

Jason swore under his breath. "I'll be there."

He was at the safe house before she was, and Jason hopped up off the couch when he heard the key in the lock. Elizabeth threw the door open and they just stared at each other. She leaned against the door, letting it click shut, and the sound echoed in the room.

She swallowed roughly, sweeping her gaze over him. The last fifteen years hadn't been terribly kind to him, but he still looked every bit like her Jason. Tall, strong, determined, if not weary and a little dejected.

This was the first time they'd been together at the safe house for more than two years. She had demanded he meet her here after he stormed into her house and tried to bust her son for skipping out on his grounding (she later caught Jake trying to do just that and grounded him for an additional two weeks, only to relent when he went out of his way to take care of all her errands and housework) and proceeded to chew him out for thinking that he could march into her house and try to be an authority figure. He listened to it all, then he pulled her to him and kissed her and she'd forgotten herself and let him do it.

Elizabeth liked to think that she had moved on, that she wasn't totally pathetic and still in love with a man she could never be with. She spent time with her close girlfriends, she had been promoted to Epiphany Johnson's old job as senior nurse and basically ran the fifth floor, she picked up new hobbies like gardening and sculpting, she took care of her boys, she dated and had actually gone one step further with Leo…but one stolen moment with Jason was enough to transport her back to twenty years ago when it was just the two of them and they at least thought they had a chance at making it all work.

She didn't pine for him. She would have hated herself if she pined for him, especially after all this time had passed and they both remained so firm in their convictions about the lives they needed to live based on Jason's occupation. She loved Jason and she always would, but she wasn't delusional enough to think that somehow, almost twenty years down the line, this would all be magically resolved and she would be free to be with him. And she didn't live like a nun, either.

She just lived her life as she did when she was estranged from Lucky all those years ago and when Jason was involved with Sam: she was independent, she was focused, and she was as happy as she could be given the circumstances. One moment didn't negate her progress or chip away at her convictions, but it did bring back a barrage of memories, of being with Jason Morgan, loving Jason Morgan, and wanting nothing more in the world than to be able to do that freely.

It was so hard to stay away from him, but it was harder still sometimes to be with him like she was now.

They stared at each other, still standing their awkwardly, each one wanting the other to make the first move. She had no idea what she wanted to do. Did she want to run into his arms? Kiss him? Just let him hold her? Or did she want to start discussing what she came here to talk about, all business from the start?

Jason watched her nervously, trying to gauge any reaction, even the smallest change of emotion in her eyes, and when the moment dragged on, he finally unclasped his hands and moved around the couch, and Elizabeth let out a small breath of relief when he reached her and folded her up in his arms.

They stood like that for a long moment, neither one wanting to move a muscle. It hurt her to realize that she was beginning to forget what he smelled like. With that came the realization that so many years had passed, and they were still at the same spot. Before, the first time he told her that they shouldn't spend time together because of the danger, they made it a few days. The next time, they spent a few weeks. Then he left town, and was gone for a few months. And all that time had turned into years, and here they were, still at that same tortuous spot. Only this time, they had a son that they shared, and with that the idea of a life they could have had together.

Reluctantly, she pulled out of his embrace and closed her eyes when he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Thank you for meeting me."

Jason dragged a hand through her hair as his lips slowly, languidly, found a path down to hers. "I always come when you call."

Elizabeth smiled at that, standing on her toes to meet his kiss. Jason kept his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, and a long moment passed before they found their way to the couch. He shifted restlessly next to her as she absently reached for the tote bag she brought along.

"It's started," she told him seriously, and Jason forced himself to focus. "He's thinking about where to apply for college. I made copies of all the brochures in the 'Seriously Considering' pile on his desk, as well as some of the applications he already started filling out. Thought you might want to take a look."

Jason examined the papers she handed him. Yale, Harvard, Stanford, Dartmouth, Columbia…all of the big-name schools were represented. "He's not going to medical school, is he?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't think so."

"He doesn't want to. Medicine's not his thing."

"How did you know?"

Jason fidgeted on the couch. "We talked about it once. Back when Cameron was leaving for school, I think. He said he knew how much you wanted him to go to medical school but he couldn't do it. Not even for you."

Elizabeth tilted her head. "Where were you guys talking?"

"At Jake's," he replied with a wry smile. "That's usually where I run into him, believe it or not."

She smirked at the irony of it all. "Of all the bars in all the town…_Casablanca_," she added when he frowned. "Old Humphrey Bogart movie. One of Cameron's favorites. He wore a fedora for a whole year in high school because of that film."

Jason smiled and shuffled through the papers. "This his essay?"

"Part of it," Elizabeth replied. "I think he'd just gotten started. I didn't mean to bring that, it's not really important for now, but it was in the stack I was copying, so it got in there. So Jake really told you that he wouldn't go to medical school, huh?"

He nodded. "Seemed upset about it. Like he thought he was letting you down."

"I wouldn't expect him to make a sacrifice like that just for me," Elizabeth sighed. "It's not like eating your vegetables just because your mother really wants you to. This will be his career, something he'll do every day. If he's not happy with it, he'll spend his whole life being miserable.

"I was lucky with Cam," she continued. "He was always amazed at how many doctors there were in our family. Both my parents, his grandfather on Zander's side, rest their souls, his aunt and uncle. He's wanted to be one for as long as I can remember. And he's always had a knack for memorization and been interested in how the body works. I think it's his calling. Jake, on the other hand…"

Elizabeth turned to him. "Did you get any idea from your conversation what you think he's interested in?"

Jason shook his head. "It was a long time ago. I asked him if he had a plan and he was vague about it. I didn't push him."

"I have a feeling that he's leaning toward business school," she said. "He talks to Michael a lot, and he looks up to him, so I figure that's the most logical choice based on what I've picked up. Or, you never know, he might change his mind entirely and switch to law. That's what Morgan wants to go into. Although I'd think that Jax and Sonny would push him into getting his MBA like Michael. You know, all things considered…"

He nodded uneasily. Sonny _had_ been trying to push Morgan into going to business school, but the boy was dead-set on a Political Science major followed by law school. Jason had no idea why, but it was an argument he wasn't keen on getting involved in.

"It's still early," he told her. "Jake's just started going through the applications. He still has about a month or two to finish them and send them off, even for Early Decision. By that time, he'll have narrowed down his ideas."

Elizabeth bit her lip. "So I jumped the gun?"

"No, no," Jason said hurriedly. Any excuse to be alone in the same room with her was cause for him to celebrate, and he didn't want her to think otherwise. "This is good – I'll keep these papers with me. Or, uh, maybe I'll leave them here and just make a list of the schools. When the time comes and you can tell me more about the ones he applied to for sure, I'll have one of my men call the schools up and make the arrangements. Jake will be able to get in anywhere he wants, and I'll take care of the tuition."

She smiled gently. "You know, you really don't have to do this. We lucked out with Cameron; he got a full scholarship. We didn't even have to dip into the trust fund Zander's father set up for him. Jake will probably have some money coming in, too. For grades, for basketball, for piano, that sort of thing."

Jason nodded. "I know. But this is something I want to do. Something I always planned on doing. I would have done a lot more…"

He trailed off. Elizabeth had never accepted any kind of allowance or child support payments from him. She had never taken a cent and though he didn't agree with it, he had to respect it. She was a proud woman and took a lot of that from the fact that she was able to provide for her children on her own.

She slipped her arm into his and rested her head against his shoulder. "Thank you. You've opened up so many doors for him."

Jason smiled to himself. "He would have gotten there on his own. You know he would have. Whether people knew he was mine or not."

Elizabeth nibbled on her lower lip and braved a glance at him. "…I heard about the shooting on the docks. The one involving you, Sonny, and Morgan."

He tensed involuntarily, and Jason knew she could feel it. "Yeah."

"I flashed right back to Michael and that awful day he got shot."

"…Me, too."

Her grip on his arm tightened. "And I was so thankful that you and Sonny were okay, but most of all, Morgan. He's just a boy. He's so young, so full of potential. He has his whole life left to live, and it's unthinkable to me that he's already got a bull's eye on his back."

Jason ducked his head. "We tried to keep him safe for as long as possible, but the time's come."

She knew what that meant…or at least she thought she did. She knew ever since Morgan was little that he'd become the heir-apparent to the organization. There was no denying it.

"I felt awful thinking it, but I was so happy that Jake never had a chance to be put in that position."

His hand closed over hers. "You shouldn't feel awful. It's good. We – We made the right choice. Because of our decisions, as hard as they were and still are, he gets to have a normal life."

Jason swallowed roughly and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her back onto the couch with him. "…He gets to be safe."

* * *

"Physics is going to kill me and bury me in a cryogenic coffin so that it can resurrect me and kill me again. I know how it thinks…if not how it works."

Jake rolled his eyes and erased the last half of the lengthy proof he was working on. "Quit bitching, Morgan."

"Fuck that, man. The AP exam is in two damn months and I can't figure half this shit out."

"You'll get it," Jake assured him. "Trust me, it'll click. Remember how lost I was in Calculus last month? Just keep with it."

"The only reason your fat was pulled from the fire was because Amalia took pity on you," Morgan grumbled. "What'd you do to thank her for helping you that week? Cut down the personal abuse by ten percent?"

"I don't abuse her."

"You do, and she has the patience of a saint." Morgan scratched his head with the end of his pencil. "Think she's any good at Physics?"

"Just do some more of the practice problems. The answers are in the back, anyway."

He tossed his pencil down on the desk, earning an annoyed look from the other library patrons, and rubbed his weary eyes. "I oughta have my dad 'arrange' for me to get fives on all my APs. You know he'd be able to do it. Then I could burn this book."

"Don't talk like that, man."

"What do you have against book-burning?"

"No, not that. It's just…" He tapped his pencil against his Calculus notebook, slightly agitated. "Look, don't you think you'll feel better about yourself if you do this on your own rather than just having your dad fix it for you?"

Morgan arched a brow at him. "Honestly? No. I'm willing to take help from wherever I can get it. And you know my dad would do it. Because of him, I'm already guaranteed a seat at any university I want. Really takes the sting out of the whole application process."

"I know," Jake replied. "And that's real great, that he wants to do that for you. Jason's doing the same for me."

"How do you know?"

"Caught my mom putting a stack of brochures and applications back on my desk," he shrugged. "Since my pop doesn't have a clue and thinks I'm enrolling at PCU like he did, it's a pretty safe bet that she took them to Jason. He'll get me in wherever I want and foot the bill while he's at it. Just like he did for Cameron."

This was news to Morgan, and he quit leaning on the hind legs of his chair and sat forward with a thunk. "Uncle Jason paid Cam's tuition?"

"Not so loud," Jake hissed. Thankfully, no one appeared to have heard them. "And yeah, he did. Remember how we had that bet going?"

"You mean how you conned six-fifty out of all of us?"

"Only five hundred after my mom got through with me," Jake reminded him. "Anyway, remember how I said I called up all the admissions offices and pretended to be from the paper or the financial aid office?"

"Yeah?"

"I was pretending to be a guy from the financial aid office when I called Johns Hopkins," he said. "After I found out about the perks they were offering Cameron, I made a remark about how lucky the kid was that the anonymous donor wanted to foot the bill. It kind of shocked the lady on the other end for a minute, but then she laughed and said that he was lucky indeed, but he'd never know who it was that wanted him to become a doctor so badly. She confirmed exactly what I thought."

Morgan passed a hand over his mouth. "Wow. I had no idea. Does Cam know?"

Jake nodded. "I told him about it a few weeks later. He got real quiet about it and then said that if it would make me feel better, he wouldn't take it and he'd go somewhere else."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Seriously?"

Jake let out a snort of laughter. "I know, right? I swear, my brother can be such a dumbass sometimes. I told him that he was being crazy, and that this was his dream and he was going to see it through, damn it. He had no idea that Jason would make it easy for him; he just went along busting his ass and got there himself. And I said he had nothing to feel guilty or bad about. This was Jason's choice and had absolutely nothing to do with me, so what would I care?"

"I still can't believe he paid for Cam, too," his best friend admitted, careful to keep his voice down. "Guess Mom wasn't kidding when she was talking about how he wanted to adopt him and be a father to him, too."

"Yeah, that worked out real well for all of us," Jake grumbled, picking up his pencil again. "Now quit being such a pussy and figure that shit out on your own. You'll accept your dad's help if he offers, but you sure as hell don't need it."


	18. She Hasn't Got Platinum Hair

**-Mean-**

**-17-**

_Social?_

_Not a bit!_

_She's got a natural kind of wit._

_She'd shine anywhere,_

_And she hasn't got platinum hair._

-- "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World," Frank Sinatra

Elizabeth leaned against the door to Jake's bedroom and watched her son finish getting ready for his senior prom. He had been planning to rent a tuxedo but instead, Morgan dragged him to the boutique at the MetroCourt like he did every year and insisted he get a custom-made suit on the house. Jake didn't like accepting freebies that way so he did some work for Carly on the side so that he wouldn't feel like a mooch.

And her little boy looked wonderful in that suit. It fit him to perfection, all clean lines and perfect stitching. He even had a handkerchief stuffed in his pocket, not folded up too perfectly, just carelessly tucked in there as if he wore all his suits that way.

She watched him fuss with his tie. "I thought for sure you were going to ask Kassidy to the dance. I thought you guys were dating."

Jake pulled a face at his reflection and unwound the two sections of his tie. "We're not."

"But you were, though, right?"

"I guess."

"Just like last year," Elizabeth murmured. "I thought you were going to take Giselle. You brought her to the house once, remember?"

"Giselle and I didn't really date that long." Jake tossed his hair out of his face and began winding the silk up anew. "I wasn't going to take her to prom."

Elizabeth sighed. Every year, it was like this. Jake would be dating some perfectly nice girl – usually an early bloomer; her son sure had a type – but when it would come time for some serious formal or the prom, he'd ditch the girl like the plague and ask Amalia out instead. And from what she heard from the other parents who managed to somehow glean the information out of their kids, Jake never came up with any grand gesture to ask Amalia out, either. Some boys asked over the school P.A. system. Others filled the girl's car up with flowers and asked her in the parking lot after school. Some sent creative gifts throughout the day with little clues that finally culminated in the big question.

From what Robin said Mal told her, Jake would just walk up to Amalia during a passing period and ask if she was going to the big dance with him or what. She'd toy with him and tell him she'd answer in a couple days, but they both always knew that the date was set.

It bothered her that Jake switched so easily from one girl to another, and she wasn't naïve enough to think that her son wasn't sleeping around. She gave him the sex talk rather early in life after seeing his womanizing ways at work, and told him very candidly that if he chose to have sex, he better use condoms every time to protect both himself and his partner. Jake had been beet red throughout the whole conversation but promised her afterwards that he had no intention of being stupid – about anything.

"Did you do anything special for Amalia this year? I mean, when you asked her?"

Jake smiled at his mother. "You mean how Pop and Leo used to do for you?"

Elizabeth blushed. "Something like that."

He shrugged in reply. "Not really. We were lab partners in Bio, so I asked her then. She had her hand on a fetal pig's undeveloped sexual organs. Figured it was the perfect time."

She knew it was awful to encourage him, but Elizabeth couldn't help it: she laughed. "Please tell me you're kidding."

Her youngest son flashed her one of his disarming grins. "I am."

"Good."

"She was actually cracking its chest open and making an incision very near the heart." He winked at her as she groaned. "Figured the metaphor couldn't get any more apt."

"You're awful."

"You love me anyway."

She smiled and watched him undo his tie again. There was absolutely no denying that, not in a million years. There were times when she had been at her wits' end with that boy, usually when she caught him sneaking out or coming home after curfew or even smoking once behind the school. She'd ream him out, she'd ground him and come up with all sorts of creative punishments (like when she found his Playboy stash and made him read all of the articles aloud, including Norman Mailer's latest soppy piece about the perils of growing older and not having various organs cooperate as he wished them to, or when she confiscated his fake I.D. and made him go to all the bars in town and personally introduce himself to the owner, then tell the man he wasn't allowed on the premises), and he'd bust his ass doing chores around the house to get into her good graces again. It had been like that ever since he was a boy. He'd get in trouble and she'd punish him and he'd apologize over and over for being so much trouble.

Elizabeth always wondered why he apologized not for _getting into _so much trouble, but for _being_ so much trouble. It was something that always bothered her, that he would say that. She talked to him about it, telling him that just because he got into trouble sometimes didn't mean he himself was trouble, and she always made sure to tell him that even though she didn't always love his choices, she would always love him.

She figured out early on during Jake's adolescent years that her son wasn't exactly a happy-go-lucky child like Morgan sometimes seemed to be. In talking to him – either on the drive to school and back, at the dinner table, during homework time, before bed – Elizabeth came to realize that Jake, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, was dealing with pretty weighty self-esteem and resentment issues, especially for a boy so young.

So many times, she sat him down and tried to get to the heart of the issue. Jake proved resistant, but Elizabeth was nothing if not a persistent, shrewd mother when it came to her kids acting out, and her sixth sense was going crazy telling her that Jake needed her support and attention.

They talked candidly about her situation with his father for the first time when Jake was about ten. She explained to him as best as she could that she loved Lucky very much, but sometimes things didn't work out and that it had nothing to do with Jake and Cameron, and that Lucky loved them both. When Jake pointed out that Lucky was hardly ever around and it felt like sometimes he didn't even want to be his father, Elizabeth could only repeat that Lucky loved him very much and wanted him safe and happy always.

There was really nothing else to say about that, because she could hardly tell her son the truth. Lucky had proved to be a far less stellar father figure than she had hoped, but she couldn't put all the blame on him. Her standards had been ridiculously high ever since she got to know how seriously Jason took fatherhood, and how he cherished all the children that ever put him in that role from Michael to Sam's stillborn child, and finally Jake.

Her youngest son seemed to improve after that conversation, and Elizabeth was relieved. Afterward, she made it a point never to distract him when he needed to talk about things like that. Jason always said that children were very intuitive and could sense it when grown-ups were trying to steer them away from something, so she forced herself not to back down from an ugly issue. Jake appreciated the honesty, and it brought them closer together than ever.

He even took it well when she started seriously dating Dr. Leo from the hospital. Jake and Cameron both knew him since they were boys and Leo was wonderful to them. He told Cameron all about his job at the hospital and how he got to fix people and do all sorts of cool things, and he played motorcycles and cars with Jake on the floor of her living room as if he belonged there. The boys adored him, and Elizabeth was glad.

It had been the first time that she let them spend time with one of the men she dated. She hadn't done it before because she didn't want the boys to get attached and then be disappointed if she broke things off. Cameron had almost gotten attached to Jason as a toddler, but thankfully didn't remember much of him after they made the decision to stay away. He had asked her once or twice where the Chuggin' Charlie Man was (that was what he knew him as, since Jason fixed his toy when it broke and talked to him about it occasionally) and then he'd forgotten, and she could breathe a sigh of relief.

But the boys adored Leo and it brought tears to her eyes once when Jake proclaimed that it was nice to have a guy around the house to balance out her Mommy-Cooties (she learned that these were a very mild, practically tolerable strain of the dreadful Girl-Cooties, since Mommies didn't count as Girls, apparently). Leo was very affectionate with them and she trusted him with the kids, thinking very little of it when he picked them up from school when she had a long shift, brought them to her house, and stayed there with them until she got home.

And then one day she overheard a hushed conversation between Patrick, Nadine, and Robin about how Leo was planning to propose. Visions of diamonds and churches and rice filled her head, and Elizabeth couldn't do it. She tiptoed around him for two weeks, hoping he wouldn't ask, hating herself for the doubts that were suddenly rising to the surface and ripping the relationship apart, until they finally had it out one night and parted ways once and for all. She was afraid to take that final step with him, and he was tired of waiting for her to be the person he hoped she was.

Jake and Cameron were very sad to see Leo go, even though he was still just as affectionate whenever he saw them. They sensed their mother's sadness over the fact that things didn't work out, so they turned their attention to her and did their best to cheer her up. They stopped asking about Leo, they kept some of the toys he'd given them out of her sight, and did what they could until one day when Jake announced that Elizabeth was too good for Leo, anyway, and that was that. She had been shocked to hear him say something like that, but came to realize that it was part of his carefully constructed defense mechanism.

Never once had she thought that raising Jason Morgan's son would be easy. Jake was stubborn and strong, and that was a dangerous combination the older he got. Sometimes she worried that he thought he was invincible, impervious to everything. It was a dangerous attitude in one so young.

But there were moments when he smiled at her, visions of the sweet-faced little boy he once was beaming through, that she forgot all of her worries and let herself cherish the thought of how lucky she was to have him. She wanted him so badly ever since she found out about him, and almost every choice she made since then had been about his and Cameron's well-being.

"Answer me one thing."

"Sure, Mom."

"Just how serious are you and Amalia?"

Jake shifted uneasily. "We're just friends."

"Uh-huh," she drawled. "So why do you take her to every important dance if you're just friends?"

"Honestly?" He shot her a sheepish look. "You wanna know the truth? It's because we _are_ friends. Any other girl I'd be seeing would take an invite to a big dance as something serious. Amalia…she knows that I'm just asking her out for the night. No pressure. No expectations. Nothing serious."

"Is something serious so bad?"

Jake eyed her carefully, knowing he couldn't tell her what he really thought: he didn't trust anything serious. Not after hearing about the great love between her and his real father, and seeing how badly that ended up where they could barely stand to be in the same room together. And not after hearing about how great the other love between her and his legal father was, and how ugly everything became afterward to the point that they divorced and he tried repeatedly to take her children away from her. Even her relationship to Dr. Leo from General Hospital, the one he assumed was going so well until one day she came home with red-rimmed eyes and said that Leo wouldn't be coming home for dinner that night like usual.

No, if that was 'serious,' then he didn't want any part of it.

"Not bad, exactly," he lied. "Just something that's not for me. Yet."

It was those 'yets' that he sprinkled into his conversation with her that gave her hope, and Jake was glad for that. She didn't need to know how he really felt about love and relationships and promises. He barely knew the meaning of those words. Saying 'yet' when talking about his future and his personal life gave his mother hope that he would turn out just fine, and that was what they both needed. Elizabeth needed that hope to cling to, to tell her that she did a good job with her boys, and Jake needed her to have that hope.

That 'yet' did indeed cause Elizabeth some relief, but not in the way Jake thought.

In truth, his mother was relieved that he was just friends with the daughter of a powerful mob overlord like Johnny Zacchara. It was common knowledge that Amalia would inherit all of her father's holdings when he was ready to step down, provided she was married. Johnny took his daughter's future very seriously and they all knew he'd be a terror when she started seriously seeing someone. Whereas Amalia would be looking for love, Johnny would be looking for a man that could head up the business and be the face of the Zacchara family.

So it relieved Elizabeth that Jake and Amalia were just friends, because if they weren't, it would end badly. Either they would fall in love and be broken-hearted when Amalia had to marry someone else, or Jake would be forced into running a business he knew nothing about and had absolutely nothing to do with.

"Screw this." Jake undid the pathetic knot he'd worked his tie into and threw it onto the bed. He popped the first two buttons of his dress shirt and looked at his reflection, satisfied. "I'm going informal tonight."

Elizabeth smiled and followed him out of the bedroom. He trotted down the stairs and made a quick stop in the kitchen to wolf down some of the brownies she just finished making and to grab Amalia's corsage from the fridge.

Elizabeth grinned when she saw the flower. "You actually got her one this time!"

Jake shuffled his feet sheepishly. "Yeah, I, uh, I figured, you know, senior year and everything…girls have certain expectations…"

"Aw." She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "I've got a good boy. Come on, I'll walk you over. Let me grab my camera."

"Mom, come on-"

"No buts, Mister. Why should Nadine be the only one to take pretty pictures of you two? Now, move it."

Johnny, Nadine, and Amalia were waiting across the street. Amalia hopped up from the couch as soon as Jake walked in through the front door and would have been perfectly happy to leave right then, but Nadine grabbed her arm and together, she and Elizabeth made the kids take a few pictures in the Zacchara parlor.

Johnny, who had recently emerged from his office, laid down a list of the usual ground rules for Jake, most of which were unnecessary considering their relationship. A limousine with bullet-proof and tinted windows was parked outside, and before long, the kids were off.

Elizabeth stood back on the walkway as Johnny and Nadine waved, and she folded her arms around herself when she saw Johnny slip an arm affectionately around his wife's waist and pull her into him. Nadine rested her head on his shoulder and covered his hand with hers, and their wedding rings caught the afternoon light and glittered.

She looked away, down the road, and took a few steps forward. Johnny and Nadine both turned when she moved, and Elizabeth flashed them a small smile.

"I better get back – I left something in the oven."

Johnny nodded and moved aside, giving her enough room to pass, and linked fingers with his wife as they lingered, enjoying the warm afternoon. Elizabeth cast them one last glance over her shoulder and hurried across the empty street. It wasn't Johnny and Nadine's fault that they had been in the same position as she and Jason many years ago and made it work, but sometimes, she just needed to withdraw from them a bit.


	19. If the Fates Allow

**Note – **Thank goodness! The transition chapter! This is where the real story pretty much begins.

Also, I wrote this chapter while high. Kind of. Legally. So keep that in mind.

**-Mean-**

**-18-**

_Through the years_

_We all will be together_

_If the Fates allow._

-- "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas," Sarah McLachlan

Jake and Morgan both picked Yale in the end, and Sonny and Jason sent off large tuition checks. The boys packed up their things, enjoyed their last few weeks in Port Charles where the rest of the town citizens treated them extra special – free cookies at the bakery, free milkshakes at Kelly's, Coleman not tossing them out on their asses when they tried to con him into giving them farewell tequila shots on their last night – and went off to school.

Morgan won his battle with Sonny and enrolled as a Political Science major with the full intention of going to law school afterwards. He really came into his own during college and enjoyed his newfound freedom. He still had guards, but they didn't sit in on his classes with him and they stayed outside his dorm, so he was able to stretch his legs a little. He and Jake kept up an old hobby and found a nice target range about an hour away from campus out in the country where they could practice as much as they pleased. He joined a respected fraternity on campus, made new friends, and even started dating an art major, which was something of an adventure in itself.

Jake settled into the school year well enough, but found himself missing his mother, brother, and Amalia terribly. He and Morgan managed to share suites in their dorm, so it was good to have his best friend around, but being away from the other people he grew up with did affect him. It wasn't uncommon for the other parents to be slightly jealous of Elizabeth, due to the fact that she seemed to be getting regular phone calls from her son at least two times a week, if not every other day.

His courses had been selected, and Jake knew what he was going to take not only that year but for the rest of his undergraduate career. He was going to major in business and get his MBA just like Michael, who was one state away in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Kristina was there, too, one-third of the way done with her law degree at her mother's alma mater, with serious plans to go into defense law as soon as she was done with tedious tortes. Alexis was pleased with her decision and was already thinking of all the great firms Kristina could work for in the city.

Cameron was doing very well in medical school and was about done with his undergrad portion. After that, it would be non-stop medical courses followed by residency, and he was optimistic about getting a position at Johns Hopkins Hospital and was thinking of going into Immunology.

Malcolm Drake made the trip overseas to his mother's alma mater in France, the esteemed La Sorbonne. Mal, who was a musician at heart, thought long and hard about what he wanted to do with his life. Ever since he was a boy, he had been very conscious of the fact that both of his parents were renowned doctors. Music was his heart, but beyond that, Mal wanted to be able to help people like his parents did. And he wanted to be able to make them proud, especially since Anna was proving to be quite the Flower Child, and a hippy-dippy-folkie at that, and since she probably wouldn't end up at medical school, it fell on him to carry on the legacy.

So he spent his last two years of high school researching like crazy and finally broke it to his parents, who had been bickering about it like crazy, that he had chosen to go to his mother's alma mater instead of his father's, and that didn't mean that Patrick's alma mater was any less prestigious than Robin's, but just that it wasn't the right fit for him. Robin was still gloating on the drive back from the airport after they'd sent him off to France.

As for the rest of the tree house tots, in the years that followed, they went off to school as well. Cecily, who had always been into design, decided to study abroad in Italy at a premiere fashion design school where a lot of popular designers got their start. She'd send home racy drawings of her stuff to her mother, hoping to freak her out, but Carly would take it all in without batting a lash while Jax took to clipping out pictures of nuns in their habits and sending them to his daughter with notes about the elegant drape of the fabric and the full swing of the robe and the feminine flutter of the wimple before his wife grew concerned about his near-obsession with pictures of muu-muus and made him stop.

Mal, Morgan, Cameron, and Amalia managed to have a long-distance, international, web-cam-facilitated sit-down with Anna and convinced her to at least enroll in fall classes at PCU. Her debut novel had received good enough reviews and she was halfway through her second with her agent and publisher breathing down her neck, and Anna reluctantly got her deadlines extended so she could complete her B.A. in English. Patrick and Robin could not have been more relieved. They were proud of their daughter and her accomplishments – despite the fact that she wrote under a pseudonym and wouldn't let them read her work, even though the other kids were privy to her fake name and her stories – but they wanted her to have a degree to fall back on. As upper middle class children themselves once, that was important to the Drakes.

Amalia had always been a lover of ancient civilizations and history, thanks to her father, and double-majored. Johnny got her into Harvard with his connections, so she had Michael and Kristina around and really felt at home in Cambridge, which wasn't too far from downtown Boston. She made a large number of friends, attended lectures and presentations regularly, and read up on the Romans while muddling through her pre-business courses as well. Michael met with her occasionally to talk about the business program at Harvard, which classes she needed to take in what order, which professors to avoid, that sort of thing, and old friendships remained firmly intact.

Molly Lansing, the wild card of the group, took the longest out of all of them to decide what she wanted to do with her life. With all of Alexis's attention focused on Kristina, and with her father willing to let her do whatever she wanted with her life, Molly took her sweet time figuring things out. In the end, the inspiration came from a very unlikely person: a young man that used to refer to her mother as "Mother Goddess" and sit Molly in his lap when she was a toddler and show her a black, shiny thing that clicked and beeped irately when he messed up.

And that was how Molly Lansing enrolled in the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and it was all thanks to one Damien Spinelli who had absolutely no clue as to what he'd set in motion.

* * *

_In a cozy apartment overlooking Harvard Square…_

Amalia stretched out languidly as the late afternoon sunshine invaded her bedroom, and realized her mistake when the movement allowed Jake to wrap his arms tighter around her waist. She wiggled against him, her bare bottom brushing low against his stomach, and he grumbled something into her hair and idly skimmed his fingertips upward until they grazed the underswell of her breast.

They had just finished finals and graduation was coming up over the weekend. Johnny, Nadine, Ric and Alexis would be making the trip down to Massachusetts for Amalia's commencement, Kristina's graduation from Harvard law, as well as Molly's graduation from M.I.T. Jake would be driving back to Connecticut in about two days to meet Elizabeth, Cameron, Sonny, Jason, Carly, Cecily, and Jax, who were flying in for the Yale commencement to see him and Morgan receive their diplomas before the boys separated for business school and law school respectively. Michael was already done with business school and working for Jax, and he was hoping to wrap up a big project and make it down in time as well.

Cameron would be entering his last year of medical school in the fall, then going on for his residency. He had been absolutely thrilled when he was accepted to complete it at Johns Hopkins University, and Jake had to figure that Jason was behind that. Elizabeth had been delighted to hear that once he finished up his residency, Cameron wanted to be able to come back to General Hospital and join the Department of Immunology.

Almost everyone planned to head back home after graduation and getting the degrees they wanted. Spencer, who had left for Oxford the fall after their high school graduation, would be coming back to make Spoon Island his permanent base for Cassidine Industries. Cecily Jacks would be opening up her own design label (hopefully) at the very same site where her father's ex-fiancé Chloe Morgan operated her label.

Michael was planning to do most of his work out of Jax's London headquarters, but he was around Port Charles often enough. Mal was getting ready to start medical school and earn his doctorate in psychiatry at La Sorbonne and was counting on a job at General Hospital, putting him unfortunately alongside his all-star physician parents, until he could save enough to start his own private practice. Kristina was letting Alexis think she'd work in the city, but they all knew she would be coming back home. As for Molly, she was planning to work in Manhattan, the same city as her father, as a consultant for a major company down there but would surely be making trips home to visit her mother.

Amalia, who was snuggled up comfortably against him, would be heading back to her father's estate after she finished business school. Johnny was conservative and didn't want his daughter living on her own when she would be much safer at home with him and Nadine. He wasn't so much worried about Sonny and Jason – though the three of them never saw eye to eye and were not friends, Johnny never made a move on the two men and their families, and Sonny and Jason never did either – but the way the business was turning. People were getting reckless and desperate as territories were whittled down, and there was no way Johnny would risk his daughter's safety.

As for Jake, he had already been promised a job working for Jax under Michael. His cousin was thrilled to have him on board and couldn't wait to teach him the ropes of the business, even though they both knew Jake wouldn't be there for long.

Amalia let out a contented sigh and Jake nuzzled the back of her neck, gently palming one of her breasts. He loved these lazy afternoons spent in her bed. He'd been more homesick for her than he expected when he started classes at Yale, but they managed to rectify that situation by arranging to spend a weekend a month together if they could work it into their busy schedules. He'd drive up or she'd drive down on a Friday afternoon after classes, and they'd spend the whole weekend lounging around in bed until late Sunday morning.

Now, they had a couple days before their respective families expected them on their respective campuses for graduation, and they were making the most of it. He'd shown up unannounced at her apartment, and they hadn't left for two whole days after that. When they got tired of staying in, she dressed him up and took him down to the Crossing where she shopped and he whined about how damn hot it was until she got him a Super Size soda from McDonald's. Then they swung by the Commons where a war veteran in a wheelchair let Jake fly his kite using a fishing pole, and Jake was happy.

And now they were back in bed after a marathon sack session, and as always, Jake was holding on to her too tightly. But Amalia didn't complain; Amalia never complained. After the ugliness that occurred at the very start of their senior year in high school, she had learned not to push too hard and just take what Jake could willingly give.

He dragged his palm down her taut stomach and kissed the back of her neck, and Amalia smiled. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand and she picked it up and clicked it off. There were very few things for which she'd ruin a perfectly lovely afternoon with Jake Webber.

His breath rustled lightly through her dark hair as Jake let his eyes wander over her announcement board, to which random notes bearing the Harvard logo were pinned. It was amazing to think that four years had passed already, and how far they'd all come.

To say nothing of how far they would all go.

Amalia would be a mob princess, and Morgan would be a mob kingpin. Michael would be a successful businessman, Spencer would be a noble prince, Anna would be a famous writer, Molly would be an international technology consultant if she gave up her dumb idea of working at GH, Cameron would be a successful doctor, Mal would be a great psychiatrist, Kristina would be a high-power attorney, and Cecily would be a crazy fashion designer that lived on Vodka and toast until her late fifties when she added an estrogen pill to her already macrobiotic diet.

"I know why you went to Harvard."

She turned slightly on her side, wiggling in his firm grip, and her cheek rasped against the stubble on his jaw. He never brought his shaving kit when he came to see her, knowing that she loved him scruffy. And he absolutely loved to rasp the prickly hairs against her neck, her tummy, the inside of her thigh, and any other place where she was soft and sensitive.

"Because it's one of the best schools in the country?"

"Nope."

"Because I have a ton of friends here?"

"Nope."

"Because I love Boston?"

Jake grinned. "Nope."

Amalia arched a brow at him. "Okay, if you're so smart, why did I come to Harvard?"

He lightly stroked a spot just under her left breast, an erogenous zone unique to her body that he'd discovered long ago. "You came to Harvard instead of going with Spencer to your dad's alma mater so you could stay close to _me_."

She rolled her eyes and turned over on her side again. "Oh, go to hell."

His chest rumbled with laughter and Jake scattered kisses on the back of her neck, her shoulder, her ear, every last bit of skin he could reach with his mouth until he practically felt Amalia melt, until she let out a sigh and turned over and gave herself to him once more.

* * *

The kids were home.

The last time their neighborhood had been as lively as it was now was when the children were all too young to drive and had discovered Jake's tree house for the first time as the premier hang-out on the block. And now, they were all home again and anyone driving down Cherry Blossom Lane could have felt the happiness in every home.

Mal was ready to start his residency at General Hospital. In another four years, he'd take the Medical Licensing Exam and obtain board certification as a psychiatrist. It was his dream to open up his own private practice but for the foreseeable future, he would be working alongside his mother and father in the hospital halls where he practically grew up.

He was at 240 Cherry Blossom Lane now, spending time with his parents, sister, and grandfather, all of whom were thrilled to have him home again until he finished moving into his new apartment. Robin was going to make him a home-cooked meal on his first night back, but Patrick convinced her to just order in from Eli's instead. There was nothing in the world Drake men loved more than ribs…except racecars. And sometimes Robin, if she wasn't nagging.

Anna, for her part, hadn't done so bad herself. After she finished up her Bachelors' program at PCU, she sent her second novel to her agent and let him worry about it while she enrolled at a university further down state. In another year, she graduated with a Masters in Fine Art, figuring that having a professional degree would keep Patrick and Robin off her back for good. Now she taught introductory classes at PCU, lived at home with her parents, and was halfway done with her first play.

Across the street, Amalia was in her bedroom getting dressed for dinner with her parents. Johnny was very particular about following these conventions and Nadine often joked that even if her husband were stranded on a desert island by himself with all his possessions and his extensive wardrobe, he would still dress for dinner every single night. Johnny and Nadine planned to keep the house on Cherry Blossom Lane, even though that had not been the original plan.

Johnny only got the house in the first place because Amalia and Nadine needed friends and a sense of normalcy, and he wanted his girls to have a house with a picket fence instead of a house with stone gargoyles. He and Nadine agreed that when Amalia was grown, they'd sell the house and reside permanently at Crimson Manor. But now that their daughter was home and the time had come to get rid of the place, Johnny found that he just couldn't do it and he had been a fool to think he could.

He carried a very pregnant Nadine in under the threshold of 235 Cherry Blossom Lane, pulling a muscle in his back in the process. Elizabeth Webber had designed the nursery that he had his men paint while he went to work assembling the crib. Amalia took her first steps out on the driveway a few days after he had the old one ripped out and a new one put in. Their beloved dog, Kane, was buried right out back under the cherry blossom tree. There was no way he could part with this beautiful house, the home where he spent the happiest years of his life with his wife and daughter. There was no way he could do it, so he wouldn't.

Further down the street at 202 Cherry Blossom Lane, Carly had yet to let go of Morgan and Cecily. Her babies were finally home, and she and Jax couldn't have been more thrilled. Michael was in London and they expected him to return to Port Charles in two weeks' time, so she had fourteen days to shower her two younger children with attention. Cecily was now fluent in Italian and had things well underway for starting her own design label, including many important connections in both Milan and New York City that she planned to exploit to get things started.

Morgan was a lawyer and planned to start working for Sonny and Jason's organization almost immediately. He already signed the lease on a penthouse in a nice part of town and was having the last of his things moved in. Carly was apprehensive about – more like dreading – his new position in the Corinthos-Morgan organization, but she made it very clear that she and Jax would love and support Morgan no matter what.

But the happiest house on the street, however, was 234 Cherry Blossom Lane and belonged to none other than Ms. Elizabeth Webber, who was over the moon about having both of her boys home. Cameron Webber was now a licensed doctor specializing in Immunology. He graduated with his doctorate from Johns Hopkins, completed his residency there, and earned a prestigious fellowship under the head of Immunology. He had already applied and been accepted into the Department of Immunology at General Hospital and would soon be working alongside his mother every single day.

Cameron had already purchased an apartment of his own, not wanting to impose on his mother any longer, and his things were already moved in and unpacked with his younger brother's help. Jake, who had graduated with honors from Yale alongside Morgan, was going to be starting his new position under Michael at Jacks Enterprises in a few days and had opted to stay on in his mother's house and continue living with her, making him the object of much ribbing from Spencer, Mal, and Morgan.

Elizabeth, however, was very pleased with this turn of events. She would be spending every workday with Cameron, more or less, and every quiet evening at home with Jake. Sometimes they cooked dinner together, sometimes they ordered take-out and watched a movie, and sometimes they just sat out on the porch after dark with drinks.

She was sitting on the couch one night about three weeks later with her checkbook and stationary box when Jake returned from work and, kicking his shoes off in the foyer, dropped his suit jacket on a chair and ambled past her to the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

Elizabeth barely glanced up. "Writing out a check for the month's rent."

Jake tugged on his ear. "You, uh, you don't need to do that."

"What?" This time, she did look up. "Don't be silly, honey. I have to mail it out tomorrow so it'll get there on time. The MacDougals always give me the benefit of the doubt if it's a day or two late, and I can't take advantage of that."

"No, I mean…" He unscrewed the cap of the beer bottle he'd pulled from the fridge and leaned against the doorway. "You really don't have to do that."

Elizabeth looked up at him and arched a brow. "Honey, I'm not going to have the same old argument with you. You pitch in enough around here. You do all the handy work, you take care of my car, you handle the yard work, you pitch in for groceries…I don't want you helping out on the rent, too."

"Technically, there's no rent. Not any more." He slipped his hand into his pocket and took a pull from his beer as she stared at him. "I talked to the MacDougals last week and offered up a down-payment on the house. Now we've got mortgage payments. Which _I'm_ handling."

Elizabeth's lips parted in surprise. "Jake – I – when did you – why – I can't believe you did that! We can't pay for this house! Why do you think I rented all those years when you and Cam were growing up? This is a very spacious house in a nice part of town – do you have any idea what it costs?"

He nodded smoothly. "Yup. Got the lease upstairs. And don't worry about it. I make good money with Jax's company. It's not a big deal."

Elizabeth set down her pen and got up, crossing the room until she stood in front of him. "Honey, what made you do this?"

Jake shrugged uneasily. "I don't know. You love this house, Mom. You've always loved it. I know it burned down when I was a kid and you could have easily moved somewhere else but you moved us right back in when the construction was done. We have – We have so many memories in this place."

Her eyes began to glisten with tears and Jake forged on. "It's just, I know how hard you worked to make sure me and Cam had a roof over our heads when we were kids. How Pop never gave you a dime or offered to help out in any way when money was involved."

She shook her head. "Your father helped out the best he-"

"I don't want to talk about him," Jake cut her off brusquely. "He never played any part in making this house a home, Mom. That was you. And I know how hard you worked, how many double-shifts you pulled, all of that, just to keep this house. I remember you crying once when I was little because I broke Mister Michaelson's stupid screen door and window with my baseball, and money was so tight after you paid to fix it that you didn't know if you'd be able to make rent that month."

He pushed himself away from the doorjamb, standing to his full height at 6'2" compared to her diminutive 5'2", and shrugged again. "I want you to have this house, Mom. After everything you've done all our lives to keep me and Cam safe and happy, it's the least you deserve, to own a house like this and to never have to worry about being kicked out."

She was crying now and made no attempt to hide it. Jake muttered something under his breath and reached out, wrapping his arms around her. His mother's tears soaked through his blue dress shirt, but it didn't matter. He knew she was happy, and that was all that did.

This house would belong to his mother, he would make absolutely sure of it. It was something neither Lucky nor Jason had done for her, something she never once would have asked them to, and that was why this fell on him as her son. If things had worked out differently and Jason Morgan hadn't been such a selfish coward, his mother would never once have had to worry about money or eviction. She would have lived a comfortable life and she would have been happy.

And now that he was finally able to, Jake was going to do his best to make up for what Jason Morgan deprived her of.


	20. A Footloose Man

**Note – **Long one. Sorry. Had to get all this stuff into the same chapter. And no, don't worry, I'm not adding a new character to the roster. Spencer's wife will always just be 'Spencer's wife.' You barely have to remember her name; she's wallpaper. Necessary wallpaper.

**-Mean-**

**-19-**

_I saw her today_

_At the reception,_

_A glass of wine_

_In her hand._

_I knew she would meet_

_Her connection;_

_At her feet was a foot-loose man._

-- "You Can't Always Get What You Want," Rolling Stones

Spencer Cassidine was going to marry his girlfriend of four years, fellow Oxford alumna Laurenna Cressida Acker, the daughter of an investment banker who sat in the House of Lords as a Lord Temporal, and they were holding their first engagement ball in Port Charles so that the young prince might celebrate with his closest friends. Nikolas and Spencer and Malcolm Drake, the best man, would be making an additional trip to London to celebrate with the bride-to-be's family and friends there in two weeks' time.

The whole town had been invited, and the former tree house tots were well represented. Elizabeth and Jake arrived together – he was always his mother's date to these sorts of things – and Cameron, who was technically on call at the hospital, came separately. Lucky was there with Lulu and a reluctant Luke, who didn't much see why he had to celebrate the imminent wedding of his step-grand-spawn, but was happy that there was an open bar.

The Quartermaines were there out of respect for their business partner, Nikolas, and in a show of support for the newest board member at ELQ, the bridegroom. Jason and Sonny were there because of their ties to Nikolas and their respect for his family. Alexis, Kristina, Molly and Ric attended as a family, and made a very pretty picture now that they were together with the bickering at a minimum.

Robin, Patrick and Anna were there, and best-man-to-be Mal arrived separately an hour or so early to be on hand for his best friend. Michael was still in London and planning to attend the engagement ball thrown by the bride-to-be's side because that was more convenient for his busy schedule. Morgan, Carly, Jax, and Cecily attended as a family with both Jacks women wearing original _CCJ_ creations.

Nadine and Amalia dragged Johnny to the event, and he only came because Nadine adored Nikolas and Amalia adored Spencer. Johnny, for his part, didn't particularly adore either Cassidine man, but was used to doing things over the years because the girls wanted to do them.

Elizabeth was sitting with Robin, Nadine, and Carly about five rows back, with Cameron, Morgan, and Jake sitting in the third row, chatting quietly to themselves, when she saw Jason and Sonny approach. Sonny spotted his ex-wife and took a seat next to her, mainly so they'd have a chance to talk about Michael and how he was doing as Jax and Nikolas stood by the refreshments table and discussed a new business venture their families could possibly enter into together.

Elizabeth shifted nervously when she caught Jason's eye, and knew she was blushing when he gave her the once-over, clearly appearing to admire the vision of her in a pale blue dress and nude heels. Two rows ahead of her, the boys were entirely oblivious and were instead watching Spencer whisper something into his fiancé's ear that made her laugh and turn the prettiest shade of pink.

Amalia, glass of wine in hand, smiled politely at all the faces she recognized as she made her way over to where the boys were sitting. Her best friend Molly was busy with her parents and her sister, and she didn't feel like intruding so the guys were her best option.

Jake uncrossed his legs so that he was taking up less space and watched her primly take the seat next to him. "What took you so long? Couldn't put your face on right?"

She rolled her eyes. "My dad was wrapping up some last-minute business and needed to finish. When'd you get here?"

"Long enough ago to hit on just about every woman in the room."

"Pig."

"What? It's your fault – you should have been here to distract me. I can never seem to focus on anything else when you're around."

She frowned at him, wondering what the catch was. "That's almost sweet…"

"It's probably because your necklines are always low enough to limbo under," he continued, smirking when her lips pinched into a frown. "Really, who could blame me?"

"One name in particular leaps to mind."

"Couldn't make it leap any higher, could you?" he teased, glancing pointedly at her décolletage partially bared by the pretty lavender frock she wore. "Now _that_ would be fun to watch."

Amalia rolled her eyes again and folded her arms over her chest, sulking as she watched Spencer and his fiancé. They were standing by the door to the terrace with the afternoon sun streaming in. Laurenna was dressed in white with a glittering rock on her ring finger and when Spencer lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a light kiss on knuckles, the massive diamond caught the light and gleamed brilliantly.

She sighed contentedly, immensely happy that her old friend found love, and was interrupted by Jake's groan.

"Don't you go getting any ideas: I'm not the kind of guy to want to get tied down," he warned her, wagging his finger at her. "So don't you even think about trying to make an honest man out of me."

For some reason, that was it. Amalia turned in her seat and snapped at him, really letting him have it.

"Jacob Martin Webber, you're a chauvinistic, pig-headed, spoiled, rotten little boy with the most stilted, immature thoughts about love and relationships I've ever heard. You're stuck in a perpetual state of arrested development, you run hot and cold on me and it's the most damned, infuriating thing ever and I wouldn't marry you if you were the last guy on _earth_!"

By this time, the entire gathering was staring at them. Smoke was practically coming out of Amalia's ears as she glared at her old friend, and Jake sat there with a stunned look of utter bewilderment. And then, oblivious to the attention they were getting, his expression melted into a smug smile as he glanced briefly at her lips and then up into her eyes again, smirking.

"You want me."

The awkwardness of the moment was broken by Jason's barely stifled laugh two rows back, and the rest of the guests returned to their conversations as Amalia cursed darkly under her breath and glared at the ice sculpture as Jake sat back, fully satisfied.

Johnny Zacchara, who had been out taking a phone call and hadn't overheard the squabble, came by and took his seat next to his daughter. "Hey, Jake, boys, how are you doing?"

"Don't talk to him, Daddy," Amalia muttered. "He doesn't deserve it."

"She's just mad because I didn't tell her she looks pretty," Jake confided in Johnny before turning to the fuming brunette. "Amalia? You look very pretty."

"Go to hell."

Jake rolled his eyes and shared a beleaguered look with her father. "Women. You don't pay attention to them, they get mad. You do, they get mad. They're just never happy, no matter what."

* * *

Jason spotted Patrick, Robin, and Elizabeth standing together at the edge of the dance floor and hesitantly made his way over. Robin was the first to see him coming and instinctively moved, making room for him between her and Elizabeth.

"Hey," she smiled brightly, and Jason knew she was trying to ease any tension his arrival caused. "Enjoying yourself? It's a great party, don't you think?"

Jason dipped his head. "Yeah, real nice."

"And Laurenna – is that her name? – she looks so nice." Elizabeth glanced at Spencer and his fiancé, who were busy talking to Jax and Nikolas. "That dress is just beautiful."

"Cecily picked it out," Kristina piped up, joining the group with Jake at her side. "Spencer introduced her to Laurenna and the two of them emailed back and forth about Port Charles, all of us, what Laur should expect, that sort of thing. And CeeCee snapped pictures of a ton of designer gowns during the show at Milan and Laur picked the one she liked."

"I didn't know that," Elizabeth murmured, looking over to where Cecily Jacks was dancing with Malcolm Drake, who didn't looked as pleased as she would have thought the best man to be. "How long have you kids known Laurenna?"

Jake shrugged. "We knew that Spence was dating her practically since it started, but their engagement was pretty spur of the moment. He proposed out of the blue, she accepted, a month later, here we are."

"I've only talked to her once, but I think she's a very nice – Jake!" Kristina smacked his arm and glared up at him. "You touch my ass one more time, I'm telling my dad. There. I said it."

As Elizabeth scrubbed a hand over her face and Jason balked, Jake glanced over to where Sonny was talking to Morgan. "Yeah, if he ever notices you. Good luck with that."

Kristina scowled and socked him in the side. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go get some more champagne."

Amalia shook her head as she approached the group, watching Kristina storm away. "I have no idea why she puts up with you."

"Same reason you do," he replied sweetly, "because you see me as a tortured bad boy and you want to help me, through your tenacity and gentleness of spirit, come to a better understanding of my wounded heart."

She rolled her eyes. "Because we realize you'd have no friends left if we left, too."

"…I like my explanation better. Makes me sound like less of a douche bag."

"If it quacks like a duck…"

The live orchestra began playing another number just then, something lively and fun, as Jake and Amalia stared each other down. But she gave herself away by glancing at the dance floor and then up at him, and it was all Jake needed.

He smirked wickedly and glanced that way, too. "You know, Anna Drake looks absolutely _mouth-watering. _Excuse me a minute."

And then he walked away, whistling, to ask Anna to dance as Amalia stared after him, vowing that one of these days, she was going to kill that asshole. Morgan, who managed to extricate himself from his father, walked up just then and tapped her on the shoulder, smiling when she turned.

"Dance with me?"

She was well used to Morgan trying to make up for his best friend's horrible behavior, and Amalia wearily nodded. "Sure, why not?"

Elizabeth shook her head as Morgan led Amalia away. "Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with that boy. He can be so arrogant sometimes."

"Boys will be boys," Patrick shrugged. "I was that way when I was younger. Trust me, he'll grow out of it. Or he'll find a woman that won't relent until she beats it out of him."

Robin smiled sweetly at him. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"That's the spirit in which it was said, dear," he murmured around the rim of his flute. "Remind me – are we worried about Jake and Anna?"

"No," Robin replied firmly. "It violates the code."

That was the first Jason heard of it. "What code is this?"

"Thou Shalt Not Romance Your Friend's Sisters," she stated plainly. "Jake said that when he was younger. Means he'd never dream of dating Anna or CeeCee out of respect for Mal and Morgan. It also means that Kristina, Molly, and Amalia are all on their own, even though Kristina's technically Morgan's sister, too, but she still doesn't count."

Elizabeth sighed and watched Spencer and his fiancé dance. "Do you realize that they've known each other almost all of their lives? Ever since they were kids in that tree house?"

"I can't believe one of them is getting married already," Nadine murmured, coming to stand next to her. "Feels like just yesterday, they were skinning their knees and falling out of trees and taking turns riding Kane around the yard."

"Nikolas is handling this _very_ well," Patrick imparted, lifting his flute in an unacknowledged toast to the Cassidine royal. "I know that if it was Mal or Anna getting engaged, I'd be a wreck."

They looked over when they heard Anna giggling as Jake whirled her around in his arms.

"It still feels like they're so young," Elizabeth sighed. "They have no business getting married and going out into the world."

"I have a feeling we'll always feel that way," Robins smirked. "Even when they're parents and they're graying like us, we'll still think of them that way. As babies."

"I think it's also because we've seen them grow up together," Patrick said. "I mean, Spencer's like one of our brood. He spent about as much time at our place as Anna did at CeeCee's."

"And Morgan did at ours," Elizabeth added, barely hearing Jason sigh. She followed his gaze onto the dance floor, and they noticed that Jake was now dancing with Molly.

"And Moll at ours," Nadine piped up. "I always hoped that they'd stay friends for the rest of their lives. They had a couple of really bad fights, but show me a pair of girls that hasn't."

"Hello, everyone." They looked over as Nikolas joined the group, champagne flute in hand. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Very much," Robin smiled. "We're all so happy for you, Nikolas."

He smiled warmly, if not a little wearily. "Thank you. It means a lot to us to have our close friends on hand. I…I practically grew up with you guys, too. Jason, Robin, Elizabeth, we've been together since we were younger than they are now. It means a lot to me that you're all here, just like it means a lot to Spencer that your children are here. I can't tell you how grateful I am to all of you that Spencer was able to have a circle of friends like your kids."

Elizabeth grew misty at that, and Robin slipped her hand into Patrick's, replying, "He's a wonderful boy that turned into a wonderful man, Nikolas. You should be very proud of him. We wish him the absolute best, him and Laurenna."

"Just…pray for them, if you would." The Cassidine royal managed a sheepish smile. "I don't doubt for a second that they love each other, but they're young, and marriage is a big step. Keep them in your prayers."

"We will," Nadine promised, smiling up at her husband when he joined their group. "And Spencer's got a good head on his shoulders. I have a feeling he'll do just fine."

"Just think," Patrick murmured as the orchestra trailed off and began to play a slower, softer, achingly romantic song. "Pretty soon, Spence will be married, and before long, he'll be having kids. And it won't be long until one of the others follows. I mean, Mal could be the next one to get married."

"Or Kristina," Nikolas suggested. "Although I don't think she's serious about anyone at the moment."

"Or Michael or Morgan," Robin added. "Michael most likely. He's really matured over the years; I can see him thinking about a wife and kids and settling down."

"Or Amalia," Nadine sighed, making Johnny wince. "God, I hope not Amalia. Not until she's good and ready."

"Or Jake," Jason added quietly, trying not to shift when everyone looked at him. "He could be next."

Elizabeth forced a laugh. "Oh, I don't know, I'd put my money on Cameron long before Jake. Judging by how he is now, I doubt-"

She followed his gaze out onto the dance floor and this time, Jake was slow-dancing with Amalia. He said something, causing her to look up at him in confusion, but then he shook his head and just rested his forehead against hers.

Elizabeth let her eyes linger on the couple and fell silent.

* * *

"You should dance with her."

Jake arched a brow at Molly, who almost didn't notice because she was darting glances at Cameron, who was dancing with her older sister. "And why would I do that?"

"Because you want to," she replied sweetly. "And whenever she dances with Morgan, you always wonder what they're saying about you and it pisses you off and you take it out on me. And you know I hate fast-dancing."

Molly laughed when he frowned sourly and half-pushed him over to where Morgan and Amalia were dancing. "Come on, don't be an idiot. I'm sick of you, anyway. It's high time I pawned you off on some poor, unsuspecting…Hey, Amalia."

She smiled at her best friend. "Hey."

Jake dodged Molly's attempt at a discreet kick and tipped his chin up just a notch. "Mind if we cut in?"

Morgan glanced at his partner. "Actually…"

"Wasn't asking you, old man," Jake interrupted, his gaze locking with Amalia's. "Well?"

"I'm fine with Morgan," she replied, attempting to pull away from them. "Thanks for asking."

"Changed my mind," he snipped, giving Molly a little push toward Morgan as he reached out and snatched her hand. "Turns out, I wasn't asking at all."

She gritted her teeth as he yanked her into his arms and glared up at him. Morgan, knowing he had lost, shrugged and looked down at his cousin. "You wanna go bother your uncle about the possibility of imminent Cassidine grandchildren?"

Her dark brown eyes lit up. "Do I! Let's go."

Jake smirked as he watched the two of them hurry over to where an unsuspecting Nikolas was talking to his aunt Alexis, then turned his attention to the fuming brunette in his arms. Her eyes were narrowed, her fingers were rigidly linked with his, and her lower lip stuck out as she gritted her teeth.

And Jake couldn't help it: he laughed at her.

"What's wrong?" he chuckled as her eyes widened at the thought that he could find her so amusing. "Don't feel much like dancing? You love this slow, romantic shit."

She was still glowering. "I didn't feel much like dancing with _you_, if you must know."

Jake pretended to consider this. "See, this is why you confuse me so damn much. Your lips say no, but your eyes say…well, I've never made that far up your body, to be honest. Not when you've got _those_ so prominently on display."

He leered pointedly down at her cleavage and Amalia succeeded in yanking her hand from his and whirling around before he crossed her and pulled her back again. "Okay, okay, jeez."

She said nothing, and her lips settled into a tight red line.

Jake rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, haven't you forgiven me yet? Normally, no matter how much of an ass I am, you go from zero to forgiveness in about five minutes flat. You're really letting me down, Amalia."

She glared at a point in the distance and Jake chuckled to himself, using the moment as an opportunity to pull her just a little closer. His chin brushed against her dark hair as his hand settled comfortably low against her back, and he swayed with her slowly to the music.

He had absolutely no idea why he did this.

All he knew was that it was easier than the alternative: putting himself out there and letting her know how much she mattered to him. If he did that, he opened himself up to disappointments and heartache, and Jake hated the thought of being vulnerable that way. Especially now, at such a crucial juncture in his life. There was absolutely no room for vulnerability now, not when so much was on the line.

He rubbed small circles up and down her lower spine with his knuckles, absently breathing in the scent of her shampoo. Some ridiculous fruity scent mixed with coconut and vanilla that just made him want to get her dirty and sweaty instead. If she had any idea how much she affected him, how easily she could be used to exploit his every weakness, how much he had come to depend on her…

No, they'd learned their lesson when they were kids in high school. She had so much to give – so much that he didn't know he could take.

There were times when he tried, when he honestly tried, but inevitably, those came to a crashing end when he screwed up. She was patient and understanding, and she got him the way few other people did, but there was a limit. He'd push her and she'd just walk away from him for a while, and he knew he never had anyone to blame for it but himself.

She moved closer, and he could hear her sniff his aftershave. Still, even when she walked away, she forgave him. It would start with a few beleaguered, remorseful sighs, then a few pitying glances, and then the comforting pressure of her head against his shoulder and her arms around his waist, and before long, he was fully forgiven. And that was when he'd usually set to work pushing her buttons again.

The thought made him pause, and Jake stared contemplatively at the ornate crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling just a few feet away.

"I wonder…" He blinked and gazed down at her thoughtfully. "Is there anything you wouldn't forgive me for?"

Amalia looked up at him questioningly, her dark brows furrowed, and Jake shook his head. "Never mind."

She let out a little sigh when he rested his forehead against hers, still troubled by his wistful remark.

* * *

Jason tipped his head at the raven-haired bartender to thank her for his drink, and whisked the beer bottle off the counter. He was about to rejoin Sonny and Michael when he saw Jake heading his way. His son had just finished playing on the grand piano in the corner by popular request. Nikolas asked him to, and he tried to beg off by saying that he didn't have his shades and he never played the piano without his shades. But Johnny Zacchara threw a wrench in his plan and 'graciously' offered him the dark glasses he used for driving, so Jake had no choice. He put on the shades, sat down on the bench, and played a ten-minute jazz-inspired medley of some of the most romantic songs he could remember.

And now his son was done and judging by the relieved look on his face, it wasn't a moment too soon. So Jason stayed put and watched his son flash the pretty bartender a wolfish smile as he sidled up to the bar, more than ready for a drink.

"Hey, gorgeous. Got anything left in a single-malt, or did the groom-to-be's father guzzle it all down already?"

She smiled despite herself and held up a bottle. "It's your lucky day."

"Every day's my lucky day," Jake replied cockily. "And for the record, the clincher for today isn't that you have some scotch left over."

She arched a brow at him. "No? Then what is it?"

"The fact that you're going to give me your phone number," he grinned, toasting her when she handed him his drink.

Jason rolled his eyes and idly listened to his son flirt with the woman, and sure enough, Jake was soon handed a little cocktail napkin with her number on it. He had no idea how the kid did it – he sure as hell didn't get it from him. Jason wouldn't have been able to flirt his way out of a paper bag even if his life depended on it.

The bartender was called to the other end of the bar, so Jake let her go and sipped his scotch, watching her depart. When she was gone, Jason quirked a brow at him.

"Do you have to do that?"

Jake glanced at him and turned so that they were both facing the rest of the gathering. "Do what?"

"Flirt with every bartender that serves you?"

He didn't ask it with any malice or irritation, he was just curious, and Jake didn't seem to mind. "I always flirt with people that serve me food and drinks – best way to keep them from spitting in 'em. Of course, I sometimes run into trouble when my waiters and bartenders are men, and Coleman, as a matter of fact, is surprisingly modern-thinking."

Jason laughed at that. "I'll bet." He watched his son sip the scotch. "Doesn't it taste better, now that you're old enough to be legally served?"

Jake shot him a scornful look at the patronizing question. "Why would it taste better? It's the same liquor and I'm the same person. It's not like your damn taste buds change that drastically between twenty-and-a-half and twenty-one."

Jason dropped the none-too-subtle point and sipped his beer as Jake did the same. After a moment's pause, Jake darted a glance at his father.

"So, uh, having fun?" He tilted his head to the side when Jason looked at him. "I don't usually see you at these types of things – you know, parties."

Jason shrugged. "It's nice. And I've known Nikolas for a very long time, so I had to come honor his son."

"Ah." The corner of Jake's mouth curved downward slightly. "Good enough reason."

Jason wondered if there was a particular reason that his son took an especially large gulp of scotch. "Must be a good day for you. One of your friends is getting married."

He nodded. "Yeah. Can't imagine why, though. I always thought Spencer was the smart one."

The corner of Jason's mouth hitched up. "Jake Webber has a problem with marriage. Never would have seen that coming."

He didn't particularly like the sound of his name the way Jason said it, but he shrugged it off. "Don't have an out-and-out problem with it, really. Just think it's damn dumb."

"Why?"

He arched a brow at his father. "Do you have any idea how many people get engaged who don't have a _prayer _of making it to the altar? How many people get engaged while _knowing _that it won't work out?"

Jason knew all too well, and his gaze drifted to the far end of the room.

Jake rolled his shoulders easily and continued to survey the crowd. "For the record, I hope that doesn't happen to Spence. He's a good guy, Laur's a good girl, hopefully, they'll make it. And it's a good thing that we have an open bar, too, otherwise this party would be really dull."

Jason glanced at him in time to see Jake smirk. "These things usually are. That's why I like to make a little game for myself. I call it, _Portents_."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "I'll show you. Okay…uh…right. See that guy standing behind Amalia? That asshole's been sniffing around her this whole time, trying to get her number. She's playing it cool, talking to Morgan and ignoring him. In about one minute, she's going to snap and threaten to break his fingers off."

Jason snorted. "Amalia? I doubt it."

"Just watch."

He did as his son said and sure enough, Amalia Zacchara slammed her drink down on the table, whirled around, and grabbed the persistent suitor's fingers in her hand and jerked back. The man yelped and she said something to him through gritted teeth that made him nod fervently. When she let him go, he beat a fast track out of there and she returned to her conversation with Morgan.

Jake grinned. "See? Do I know her or what?"

"Pretty well, it seems like."

He ignored the loaded remark. "Okay, take Old Man Quartermaine over there. He's going to nod off to sleep while Old Man Cassidine's trying to talk to him."

Jason looked over at his grandfather and saw that he was indeed engaged in conversation with Stefan, engaged meaning that he was slowly nodding. And over the time of five minutes as they watched, Edward stopped nodding and began nodding off, sitting up straight in his chair only when Stefan gripped his wrist and shook him.

Jake smirked and glanced at Mal and Spencer, who were talking by the refreshments table. "Okay, last one. Mal and Spencer over there. Any minute now, Mal is going to haul off and slug Spence."

Jason blinked. "At his engagement party? No way."

Jake turned a smug smile his way. "You want to make a friendly little wager? Say, a hundred dollars?"

His father snorted. "I've heard the rumors about you. I think I'll keep my money, thanks."

Jake let out a bark of laughter at that, drawing Elizabeth's attention. His mother's eyes widened in alarm when she saw father and son standing together amiably at the bar, but neither man noticed her. "So I take it my reputation precedes me."

"Something like that."

"Just watch. Any minute now…"

They each sipped their drinks and kept their eyes trained on the boys. Mal was leaning in real close and appeared to be grinding something out through gritted teeth, and Spencer was slowly getting more and more agitated.

"Wait for it…"

Mal pulled his arm back, made a tight fist, and punched Spencer right in the eye.

"Yes!" Jake said, grinning as Spencer almost went down. "There it is."

Jason winced as the young prince tackled his best friend and the fight began in earnest. Stefan alerted Nikolas, who was taking a call outside in the hall, and Patrick handed Robin his drink and together the two men made a beeline for their sons.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, "what are they fighting about?"

"Laurenna," Jake replied breezily. "Spence proposed out of the blue and Mal's feeling like he's moving on too fast and that things'll never be the same again between them. You know, the usual. It's quite a cliché by now, actually. Oh, come on, they're never going to pry them apart like that."

He shook his head as Nikolas and Patrick tried to diffuse the fight and signaled Morgan, setting his drink down on the counter. Jason watched him undo the cuffs of his dress shirt. "Man, I hate breaking up fights. Goes against my very nature."

"As an instigator?" Jason drawled.

Jake looked at him coolly over his shoulder, preparing to enter the fray and force Mal and Spencer to knock it the hell off. "No. As a man that appreciates how affirming anger and resentment can be."


	21. It's Just A Talk

Note – Note – Dag, yo. Fun stuff. :-D Mob stuff.

**-Mean-**

**-20-**

_Step one_

_You say, we need to talk._

_He walks._

_You say, sit down; it's just a talk._

-- "How To Save A Life," The Fray

.: 202 Cherry Blossom Lane :.

"We've started training Morgan to take over for me. Just, uh, in case you hadn't already heard."

Elizabeth folded her hands on Carly's little table in the kitchen and nodded numbly. Jason sat across from her, and Carly and Jax could be heard going over receipts in the living room. About ten minutes ago, she'd gotten a call from Carly saying that she was to come over, and when she arrived, Elizabeth found Jason sitting on the couch. He asked to speak with her and led her into the kitchen.

It felt so strange to be sitting like this, on opposite sides of the kitchen table with a pitcher of iced tea between them. If anyone else had observed this scene, they would have thought of them as any old normal husband-and-wife pair.

She had been leery at first, but Carly assured her it was safe. Jason's bike was parked out back and he'd already been here for some time, and Elizabeth visited often enough, so it wouldn't arouse any suspicion from anyone. Besides, with none of the kids home anymore since Michael was in London, Morgan was at his penthouse, and Cecily was living out of a swanky suite at the MetroCourt, right across the street from the headquarters of her burgeoning label, it was actually pretty convenient for the two of them to use the Jacks' home for a meeting place…this once.

"What – what does this have to do with me?"

Jason shuffled his feet awkwardly. "We've run into a…problem."

Elizabeth's brows furrowed, and she was having the hardest time figuring out what he could be referring to. "All right…"

Her ex-fiance let out a sigh and shuffled his feet under the table for the hundredth time, and she just couldn't take it any more. She reached out and caught hold of his hand firmly, surprising them both, and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Jason." Her voice didn't waver. "What aren't you telling me?"

His shoulders slumped slightly, the movement almost imperceptible except to her trained eye. "Morgan's been running things by Jake. Getting his input, asking him for advice. About the business."

"Oh, God."

"Yeah." He shuffled his feet again. "Jake's been giving him advice on, uh…" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "On shipments, on route changes, on schedules, on how to handle the workers at the warehouse, our associates, how to better consolidate real estate, all that."

Elizabeth lifted a hand to her mouth. "You – You're sure? You're absolutely sure?"

"I heard them," Jason affirmed regretfully. "They were talking in the office at The Coffee Shop. Me and Sonny heard the whole thing. He wanted to talk to Morgan right then and tell him to knock it off, but I – I wanted to talk to you first before we confronted the boys. Let you know what was going on."

She nodded numbly, her mind already racing with this new information. "Thanks for doing that."

Jason was watching her carefully. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to talk to him," Elizabeth replied firmly, gripping her clutch as she stood. "As soon as he gets home from work, I'm going to have a talk with him. He knows what Morgan's involved in now and…"

She trailed off and agitatedly swept her bangs off her face as Jason averted his gaze, already ashamed of what he knew she'd say next. "He's a mobster now. Jake's best friend is a mobster, and he should know that he needs to stay away from that. It's too dangerous – he wouldn't begin to know how to handle himself in your world. I'll talk to him, definitely. I'll talk to him tonight."

He nodded and slowly stood as well. "Sonny and I will talk to Morgan. We'll tell him about security and leaks and we'll make sure he knows that it's not at all acceptable to share this information with anyone outside of the business."

They nodded at each other, each one fully determined to go out and put an end to this, nip it right in the bud, but Carly came into the kitchen just then and spoiled the momentum.

"You leaving already?" She took Elizabeth's purse from her and set it down on the counter, waving for Jason to take his seat. "Stay, have some more tea. The kids aren't home anymore: you don't have to run off so fast like you used to."

* * *

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

He was coming down the stairs, washed up and freshly changed after work, when she let herself in. Jake finished folding up his sleeves and flashed her a smile. "Hey, Mom."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek the way he always did when she returned home. "Listen, I ordered in from Eli's. Should be here in about fifteen minutes."

Elizabeth set her purse down on the table as she watched him walk away, presumably to the kitchen to get out plates and utensils. Jake knew that she never felt like cooking when she got home from work, and the Lord knew that boy could barely microwave popcorn on his own, so the two of them ate out a lot.

"Honey, we need to talk. Do you have a minute?"

Jake paused and turned around. "Uh, yeah, sure, Mom. What's up?"

She moved over to the couch and took a seat, patting the cushion next to her. "Sit down."

"Ooh, serious," he murmured, doing as she said. "How many weeks am I grounded for this time?"

Elizabeth would have smiled if what Jason told her earlier weren't so troubling. "Honey, please. I, uh, I ran into Sonny Corinthos today and he told me something that I wasn't sure how to respond to."

Jake was good enough at poker, so he knew enough about tells. And his mother had a big one when she was lying. She'd pinch the knuckle of the middle finger on her left hand with three fingers and tug on it absently; he was sure she had no idea she even did it.

He glanced at her hands, twined together in that fashion, and arched a brow at her. "Really. Where'd you run into Mister C?"

Elizabeth wasn't expecting the question, and it threw her for a second but she recovered quickly. "At Kelly's."

"Oh, yeah?" He took a mint from the little dish on the coffee table and popped it into his mouth. "You were at Kelly's? I'm surprised you didn't bring home burgers, then."

"It was, uh, it was over my lunch break," she replied hastily. "And anyway, that's not important."

It really wasn't. He already knew she was lying about who she had spoken to, so Jake took pity on her and let it go. "Okay, sorry, go ahead. I'm listening. What did Mister C have to say?"

His mother bit her lip. "He said that he overheard you and Morgan discussing something the other day at the coffee shop."

Jake nodded along amiably, not letting on that he knew what she was talking about. He wouldn't say a single thing until she revealed exactly how much she knew. No sense in putting his foot in his mouth. "Okay…"

She was obviously troubled and didn't want to go on, but she forced herself to continue. "He said that the two of you were discussing…business."

Jake blinked. "Well, yeah. That's kind of all I've been discussing with anyone for the past six years."

Elizabeth let out a short breath of frustration through her nose. "Jake, I don't mean business in general. I mean…mob business."

"Mob business?"

"Yes." She clasped her hands together tightly between her knees, and Jake could tell from one glance just how tightly wound she was over this. "Things relating to the mafia in this town. You know very well that Sonny used to run the organization and now – and now-"

"And now Jason does," he helped her out.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "Yes. And soon, it'll be Morgan's turn to take over. Honey, I know the two of you have been best friends since you were kids, but this…Jake, the two of you are on radically different paths. We all knew this when you guys were little but we didn't have the heart to break your friendship then. But there's a big difference between the kind of business you're involved in and the kind of business that Morgan's involved in."

"You mean, I'm legit and he's not," Jake drawled.

"Yes," Elizabeth said softly, and then she surprised him. "And you don't kill people for a living."

He stared at her, shocked that she would come out and say that, and for once Jake didn't have a ready reply.

She reached out and patted his knee. "I know it's hard for you boys, dealing with this change, but the fact remains that Morgan is now a part of the mob. And honey, you're not. It might seem like a glamorous lifestyle, with all that power and that money, but Jake, mob business in this town is _not_ something you want to be close to. People die just for standing too close to Sonny and Jason. When Morgan's in charge…"

She trailed off helplessly. "I know it's your instinct to help each other out. But Jake, you _cannot_ be involved in Morgan's business in any way. It could get you killed."

He stared at her for a few seconds and then cracked a smile. "Oh, Mom, is that what you're worried about? Seriously?"

Elizabeth blinked, not sure how to deal with his drastic change in demeanor. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Mom." Jake shook his head and stood from the couch. "You don't have to worry. Morgan and I weren't discussing _mafia_ business. We were just discussing business."

Worry was still etched into the lines on her face. "I fail to see how there's a difference."

He sat down on the arm of the couch and explained it patiently. "Look, you know how he runs the coffee business his dad owns, right? Or, how he's starting to? He asked me about what I knew about expanding into new territories, and I said that he would have to build up capital before he made that investment. We started talking about shares and IPOs and the best kind of land for this sort of thing, and the most efficient routes to get coffee in and word out. Hell, he's calling up Molly tonight to start talking about a complete overhaul of their online component to streamline the whole process."

Her lips parted in surprise. "…So…you weren't talking about the mob at all?"

Jake still grinned at her. "Mom, no. Mister C must have heard wrong and jumped to conclusions. I mean, come on. Do I look like the mobster type to you?"

He regretted it the instant he said it, but Jake kept his teasing smile firmly in place. He was so used to taunting Jason and throwing out little barbs that it had become second nature over the years, this time with his mother as the unlikely target. He saw the flicker of pain in her eyes and quickly moved on.

"Look, Morgan's a _lawyer_." He practically jeered the word, but he secretly knew exactly how his best friend planned to use those credentials later on. "I'm the one with the business degree, me and Michael. And since Michael's in London and working around the clock, plus, because of the time difference, it's just more convenient for Morgan to shoot me off a few questions, get my take on things."

She looked almost relieved as she darted a glance up at him. "And that's all it was?"

He hated lying to her about something that would cause her pain, but she didn't need to know about this. His plans for the future would scare her – she would be scared for _him_, and he couldn't yet prove to her that she didn't need to be. So until he could, he would just hide it from her.

"That's all it was."

* * *

**.: Morgan's Penthouse :.**

Morgan didn't heed their advice.

He and Sonny told the young man in no uncertain terms that he wasn't supposed to discuss the business or anything even remotely connected to it with any outsider, but they caught him again just now talking to Jake. His best friend was over at his place and apparently they were planning to go out tonight, and Sonny and Jason had walked in for an impromptu visit and heard them talking shop.

"Morgan, we explained this to you already-"

"I'm not denying that," he fired back at his father. "You told me all about security leaks and how I wasn't supposed to discuss sensitive information with someone I couldn't trust. I trust Jake. End of story."

Sonny glanced at the young man in question who was currently lounging on the couch, oblivious to his and Jason's stern looks. "I know you trust Jake. I'm not saying that Jake isn't trustworthy-"

"Then what are you saying?" Three years of intensive training in the field of law only served to make Morgan more convincing – and to his father and Jason, more irritating. "You said don't share information with anyone that's not trustworthy. We all agree that Jake is trustworthy. Ergo, there's no reason I have to hide this stuff from him."

"Morgan!" Sonny was rapidly losing patience with his son. "You know very well what I meant when I said that. This business is going to be completely yours in a matter of years – all of it will be signed over. You'll be running it by yourself with me and Jason here for support when you need us. You _cannot_ make a habit of talking about the intimate details with anyone, no matter how much you trust them. It's bad business, and it's stupid. You want someone to handle it with you? Fine, name a partner. Not Jake," he added when Jason scowled darkly.

"Pick someone that knows the ins and outs of the business and name them a partner or an associate. That's what I did with Jason. But remember that this is all yours – this is on you. And everyone is a liability, no matter how good they are, no matter how honest they are, no matter how close to you they are. Do you understand?"

"That's bullshit," Morgan snorted. "I'm not signing over my power of attorney here – I'm just asking him for his opinion on a new venture. It's barely even an illegal venture! He's the one with the business degree, after all."

"Which you could have had if you did what I said instead of-"

"Oh, so we're back to that again!" Morgan threw his hands up in the air. "You know, considering how fed up Diane has been with you and Uncle Jason these past ten years, you'd think that you guys would _appreciate_ having another Bar-certified lawyer around here!"

Sonny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "That's not what we're arguing about here. This is about you, us, and Jake. And the business. You _cannot_ continue to-"

"If I'm supposed to be running this damn thing, don't you think that _I_ should actually get to make the decisions?"

"Not until you prove you're ready!"

"Jesus, here comes _that_ speech again!"

"Morgan, I don't know what to do with you." Sonny planted his hands on his hips as Jason wearily leaned back against the desk. "Ever since you were a kid you'd tell me how much you wanted to run this business, how you wanted it all to be yours one day. Now, sometimes, you talk like you don't give a damn."

"How can I give a damn about it if you're still treating me like a fucking child? I'm not an idiot, Dad, and I don't make a habit of taking stupid risks-"

"Clearly, we disagree on what a stupid risk is."

"Clearly, we do," he shot back. "Because I don't see Jake as a liability, and I'm trying to figure out why you do."

"Hey, hey." Jake had apparently heard enough and now rose from the couch, tugging on the sleeves of his suit jacket before he sauntered over to address them. "Look, I didn't want to say anything, but you guys made me."

He turned to Sonny and placed a hand very familiarly on his shoulder. "Mister C, I totally get your concerns. And unlike Morgan here, I think they're completely valid. So what if you've known me my whole life? It doesn't matter. You're absolutely right: everyone is a liability. And when you're in a position of power like Morgan is, you have to remember that anyone could knife you in the back."

Sonny nodded jerkily at that, and Jake continued. "But what I'm here to tell you is that you don't have to worry. This business is Morgan's. It's been run by his family since the very start."

Jason straightened at that and Jake barely glanced at him.

"I have absolutely no claim to it," he stated plainly, a little louder than necessary. "I have absolutely no right to it. And don't worry, I have no plans to interfere."

He turned to his best friend and fished his keys out of his pocket. "Listen, I'm gonna go start the car. I'll wait until you're finished here."

And then he sauntered out of the penthouse and into the hallway, whistling a jaunty tune.


	22. Follow My Lead

**Note – **One of my favorite chapters. Everything is just coming together, and I love it.

**-Mean-**

**-21-**

_Won't you tell her, please,_

_To put on some speed,_

_Follow my lead?_

_Oh, how I need_

_Someone to watch over me._

-- "Someone To Watch Over Me," Frank Sinatra

**.: The No-Name Restaurant :.**

_In a private room at the back…_

"Dad?"

Diane Miller slid another contract in front of him. "Sign here. Initial there, there, and there. Sign there. Date."

Morgan glanced up at her. "Now, Diane, you know I've always found you attractive in a Mrs. Robinson kind of way, but we could never be. You work for my dad, and office romances aren't my thing."

Her lips pinched into a peeved expression and she turned to Jason. "He's not the boss yet, right?"

He smirked. "Nope."

"That's what I thought. And that's why I can do this." She reached out and roughly tousled Morgan's short, dark hair, the way she used to when he was a boy. "Sign there."

Morgan glanced at the contract and hesitated. Sonny and Jason had already filled in their signatures on every required line, and now all he had to do was sign his name. "Dad?"

"What is it?"

"Is it okay if we hold off on transferring the non-legit aspects of the business for now?" he asked, looking back and forth between Sonny and Jason.

The two men didn't appear to understand. "What would you want to do that for?"

"It's just…" Morgan scratched a spot just above his ear with the back of his pen, an old habit of his. "I don't know if I'm comfortable owning the whole business right now. The legitimate stuff is fine, but the actual business part of it…I don't know if I'm ready."

"Sure you are," Sonny replied, giving him a clap on the back. "Morgan, Jason and I have trained you from the very beginning. You're intuitive, you're shrewd, you always see your advantages, but you're cautious, too. You've got a good head on your shoulders and you're absolutely ready to take over all of it."

They didn't know it, of course, but all of Morgan's great ideas came from Jake. For his part, Morgan wasn't at all interested in running the business. But they needed Sonny and Jason to think that not only did he want to, but he was entirely capable of it. So for a long time now, Jake had been feeding him all the insights he gleaned and passing along his business ideas, and Morgan had regurgitated them for a very pleased Sonny and Jason, and it had worked.

"If it's all the same to you, can we hold off on that?" he asked. "I can handle the stuff like the coffee business fine on my own, but I still want you and Uncle Jason around to help me with the other part of it."

"Jason and I will always be around," Sonny assured him. "Us signing this over to you is not going to change that. We're out of the business, yeah, but that only means that we're not making all the decisions now. You are. We will offer our advice and our support and whatever knowledge we have, but in the end, you're going to make the final call. We're not going to interfere with that or try to take it over from you."

"I realize that," Morgan repeated. "But I think at the same time that it might be risky signing all of it over to me right now. Jake was saying-"

He rushed on when he saw his uncle frown. "In a period of transition – like, say, a merger between two companies or a total acquisition – the company goes through a period of time where it's considerably weakened. Jax taught me about that, too. At one time, ELQ was acquiring one of its subsidies and was weak during the transition, and that's how he got in and bought all his shares, the ones he sold to Michael last year. I think Mister Cassidine got his ELQ shares the same way – only now they're Spencer's, but still."

Morgan tapped his pen on the unsigned contract. "I think it might be more prudent to leave the actual business – most of the stuff that's non-legitimate – in your hands right now. Let's not sign the contracts, let's not change the names. The organization will be weak enough from the rest of the transfer. Let's wait a while."

Sonny and Jason exchanged glances and when neither one could voice a solid complaint, Sonny shrugged. "If that's the way you want it, that's fine with us."

Morgan let out a sigh of relief and passed the contract back to Diane, the line for his signature blank. "I'd like you to put these in my office, please. Top drawer. I'll transfer them to the safe myself."

He was happy to take over the coffee business and have that under his name, but when it came time for him to enter the world of politics, it would be better if the more questionable parts of his father's business weren't tied to him as well. He owned them, to be sure, because Jason and Sonny had already signed them over pending his signature, but they would stay in Sonny's name until he signed his name on the dotted line.

"That's all I need," Diane said, packing the contracts away in her attaché case. "I'll have these taken care of and get back to you in the morning. Congratulations, Mister Morgan Corinthos. You are now the owner of the Corinthos-Morgan organization."

* * *

_In the main restaurant…_

Jake was having dinner with Spencer and Mal, and Jason saw him as soon as he stepped into the main restaurant and walked over to the bar with Sonny and Morgan. Spencer would be leaving in a few days' time for England where he would marry his fiancé, so he figured the boys – men now, really – were taking the opportunity to spend some time together before Spencer bid farewell to his bachelor days.

"Three scotches, neat," Sonny said, and the bartender went to work filling the order immediately. Jason was soon handed his drink and waited as Sonny took his and prepared the toast.

"Whiskey sour, skip the orange and the straw. And a scotch on the rocks and your best cognac, please. Put it on my tab."

He looked over to the other side of the bar and saw Jake talking to one of the bar tenders. His son waited patiently and munched on a few peanuts as he waited for the drinks, then caught Jason staring and tipped his head in way of greeting.

Jason nodded back, barely hearing Sonny when he spoke.

"To my son Morgan," he started, lifting his glass. "Everything that Jason and I worked so hard to build is now yours. We can't wait to see what you do with it. This has truly been a long time in the making."

Morgan smiled and picked up his glass, and looked across the bar at his best friend, who had just received his whiskey. And Jason watched with growing trepidation as his son lifted his glass, smirked, and toasted his best friend, not doubting for a minute that Jake knew all that had transpired in the back room.

* * *

**.: The corner of Birch and Red Cedar :.**

His gray trench coat blended in with the misty fog and the thick darkness of the right, barely kept at bay by a few weak streetlamps that knew they were fighting a losing battle. Jake looked both ways before he crossed the street and walked, his strides long and brisk. He was meeting a contact on the corner of Birch and Red Cedar and couldn't be late.

He pulled his collar up and kept walking. He'd left the car two blocks away, figuring it would be best and innocuous, and continued on foot and was almost there. This part of town, a bit away from the hospital and the docks, further inland, was usually pretty quiet, so he didn't worry as much about being seen by the wrong people.

The business was in peril.

As he had warned Morgan, the organization became vulnerable during the transfer. Someone had attempted not once, but twice, to take control and seize it from Morgan, and Jake had been working overtime trying to juggle his current job with Jax and his under-the-table job with Morgan to keep things stable. He was only barely succeeding, and he didn't know how long he could keep it up.

The problem was that all signs pointed to Johnny Zacchara, the man that had lived across the street from him for most of Jake's childhood. The routing numbers, the men captured, the traceable telephone lines all went right back to him.

He spotted a woman standing by a lamppost, fiddling with her cigarette case, and kept his pace even. She succeeded in pulling out a cigarette and slipped the case into her purse, reaching now for her lighter. He grew closer as she tried once, twice, three times unsuccessfully to flick it on.

Jake smoothly reached into his pocket and produced his own. "Need a light?"

Amalia, wearing a wig and a dark coat, turned and nodded. "If you don't mind. You want one?"

"Why not?" He held the lighter to her cigarette, watching her lips pucker as she puffed it to life, then accepted the one she offered him and lit it smoothly. No one was around, not even any signs of a possible eavesdropper, and they were safe.

This was a good spot to meet because it wasn't too far from places they could both plausibly be, and of course because no one expected them to be on foot and meeting out in the open. Jake knew that his father's men showed up at places like the No Name, Kelly's, Jake's, and the warehouse regularly, partly to keep him informed on who they saw there. No one from Jason Morgan's former organization would be patrolling this part of the town, and this exposed street corner, at that.

He smirked at her and blew out a thick stream of smoke into the fog. "That blonde wig makes you look like a prostitute." He leaned in closer. "I like it."

She rolled her eyes and took another drag, leaving a red lip print on the white paper. "I had to wear it. My dad's men prowl this town. Do you have any idea what he'd do to me if he found out I sneaked out?"

Johnny had his wife and daughter under lock and key at 235 Cherry Blossom Road. He was concerned about Sonny and Jason's accusations that he was trying to take the business from Morgan, and Jake knew that if tensions escalated, Johnny would move his family back to Crimson Manor permanently, that is, if he didn't send them out of the country altogether.

Amalia managed to sneak out for an hour in order to meet him, and she was visibly anxious about it. He was, too, but not to as great an extent. Sonny and Jason were keeping a close eye on Morgan, watching who he talked to, because they didn't want him to accidentally let anything important slip. They reminded Jake of a circle of elephants keeping the little ones in the center when there were signs of lion attacks.

They watched him, too, he was certain of it. His contact with Morgan was limited these days; Sonny and Jason made sure of it. They always hurried him out the door whenever he came over to visit, and they tried to keep Morgan on a leash, too.

Amalia looked this way and that, then leaned closer, letting him catch a whiff of her perfume. "Listen, I can't stay long. I just came to tell you what I know. My father was talking to Aunt Claudia two hours ago about all of this. She told him he was a damn fool for not trying to take over the organization from Morgan, who she calls a green boy that wouldn't know how to run a business even with a large-print manual and a Get Out of Jail Free card."

Jake smirked. "I always liked your aunt. She's entertaining."

"My dad said that he didn't want the business," Amalia continued as if he hadn't spoken. Sometimes it was just best to ignore the things that came out of Jake Webber's mouth. "And that he wouldn't try to take it away from Morgan. He said something about how he practically watched Morgan grow up and that he's a good kid, and Aunt Claudie said he was getting soft and that she despaired for him."

"She's got ridiculously high standards, that one."

"Jake." She reached out and gripped his wrist, and Jake found himself gazing into her eyes. "My father isn't the one behind this. You have to believe me when I say he's not."

"I know," he murmured, still gazing down at her.

Amalia's brows furrowed. "You do?"

Jake cleared his throat awkwardly and broke eye contact with her, dusting ashes off the end of his slow-burning cigarette. "Yeah, I had a pretty good idea that it wasn't him that was doing this."

Her lips curved into a frown. "Then why were so you insistent that I meet you?"

He avoided the question and wiggled his hand, prompting her to let go. "If we're right and your dad had nothing to do with this, then things are about to get worse. Someone wants to pit the Zaccharas and Morgan against each other, and when we're sufficiently distracted, that's when they'll make their move."

"We won't allow ourselves to be distracted, then," she murmured, arching a brow at him in such a way that he was immediately reminded of her cold, calculating aunt. "Make sure Morgan does his best to convince his father and Jason not to make a move against us. In turn, I'll convince my father that he stands to lose too much if he decides to strike preemptively."

Jake nodded and when she turned to go, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her to him. Amalia gasped as she fell forward, but his arm slipped around her waist as her hands hit his chest, and Jake pressed his lips sweetly to hers. Amalia sighed against his mouth and leaned into his embrace.

He pulled back and flashed her the smallest smile. "Hey," he murmured as she steadied herself and made to pull away. "We'll fix this."

Amalia smiled back and nodded, turning to leave. "I know we will."

Jake let her hand slip out of his and watched as she turned and trotted down the street before rounding the corner. He tossed his cigarette butt onto the sidewalk and ground it out with his heel, then turned and walked away.

* * *

**.: Jake's office, Jacks Enterprises :.**

Jake looked up when the door to his office opened and saw his best friend standing in the doorway. He finished his notes on the presentation that he'd have his secretary fax to Michael within the hour and waved him in. "Close the door."

Morgan kicked it shut with his heel and shuffled over, his steps heavy, and flopped down in one of the handsome leather chairs across from Jake's desk. He idly adjusted the framed picture of Elizabeth, Cameron, and Jake from ten years earlier and finally folded his hands in his lap.

Jake knew that exasperated gesture all too well. "You just came from a meeting with our fathers."

Morgan nodded wearily. "More like me futilely flapping my gums for an hour and my dad insisting that it was Johnny. He wanted to march over to the 235 and blow his brains out immediately."

Jake rolled his eyes, knowing how rash Sonny could be. "What about Jason?"

His best friend knew this was a test, a son deciphering his father's measure. "He doesn't believe that it could be Johnny, but he couldn't defend himself when my dad brought up the routing numbers, the transcripts, the traceable phone lines, and those men we captured that confessed to working for the Zacchara family."

Jason had passed, but only barely.

Jake nodded to himself. "Don't blame him."

Morgan let out a sigh and scratched the back of his head. "My dad's pushing me to start an open war with Johnny."

It felt strange calling his friend's father by his informal first name, but he knew he'd get used to it.

"He wants me to draw him out, force his hand. Uncle Jason thinks it might be good to poke him a little, then see what he does and act based on that. He's not in favor of an open war just because there's been peace between our families for about two decades and he still doesn't want to believe that the Zacchara family is behind this."

Jake's shrewd eyes flicked to his. "What about you? What do you think?"

Morgan shook his head. "Jake, I don't want a war. Our families have managed to live in peace since we were babies. Johnny lived down the fucking street from us, for crying out loud. I remember him picking me up in his arms so that I could see the top row of pictures on the ice cream truck. And we've been friends with Amalia since we started school. War is the absolute last thing I want."

Jake's brow ticked slightly. "You should know better than to let your personal feelings and sentimental memories cloud your judgment."

"So I'm wrong?" his best friend bristled.

"No," Jake allowed with a smile. "You're right. A war at this point is stupid, especially if we have serious doubts as to whether or not this was Johnny."

"But all signs point to him," Morgan added, unable not to play Devil's Advocate.

"All the evidence that points to Johnny is too clean for this dirty business," Jake murmured thoughtfully. "It's too easy to pin it on him. It's someone we're not thinking of – someone we might not even know of."

His best friend smirked. "What happened to not letting your feelings cloud your judgment? You're only sticking with Johnny because Amalia says it wasn't him, and you trust her."

Jake nodded once. "I do."

"With your life?" Morgan asked.

"If I had anything I valued more, I'd trust her with that," he said softly.

Morgan shifted awkwardly, knowing that it was something Jake had a hard time saying freely. But his best friend didn't seem ashamed of the sentiment. "If I'm going to hold off my dad, we're gonna need answers. And we're gonna need them fast."

Jake nodded once. "Can you spare Penn and Chase?"

"My guards? Yeah, sure. You gonna use them on this?"

"Yup. We work well together, and I think they're your best." The corner of his mouth kicked up. "They're my Max and Milo."

Morgan had to smile at that. "If you need them, I'll make sure they're at your disposal. And I'll keep my dad and Uncle Jason from finding out."

Jake smiled as his friend stood, preparing to leave. He stood as well and reached out, shaking his hand firmly. The deal was made. "Thanks. I'll meet with them tonight and we'll figure this out. I have one or two thoughts; they're going to turn them into leads."

"Too bad we can't get Spinelli in on this. No one's better at this stuff than he is."

He shook his head. "No way. The Jackal is way too loyal to the Great Stone Cold One or whatever the hell he calls Jason. If he finds out about this, I'm fucked. Nah, I'll call Moll up if I need her."

"Molly? She'd be willing to do this sort of thing? Get mixed up in the business?"

"Sure," Jake shrugged. "She's done it for me before. And I figure it's half in her blood, what with her dad being your uncle and into some pretty wicked shit back in his day. Go on, go back to the guys. I'll handle this."

Morgan nodded and backed away, then hesitated. "You know, I really wish I was better at this shit. I'm like a damn fish out of water here."

Jake smiled softly. "Don't beat yourself up over it. This isn't your field, Morgan. You're a lawyer, a social worker. This isn't for you. You're good at the other stuff; the PR and holding everything and everyone together. You let me handle this, you go do what you do best, okay? Keep your dad and Jason calm, just keep this powder keg from exploding on us."

Morgan smirked at that. "Yeah, all right. You call me if you need anything."

"I will, don't worry."


	23. Take the Fall

**Note **– I adore how things get ugly in this chapter. I've had the image of Cameron taking a good swing at Jake in my head since I first started working on the outline. Thanks to the girls in chat that one night for helping me with a little dialogue conflict. I couldn't resist the joke about the judge's name. LOL.

**-Mean-**

**-22-**

_I'd take another chance,_

_Take a fall,_

_Take a shot for you._

_And I need you like a heart needs a beat_

_But it's nothing new._

-- "Apologize," One Republic

**.: Port Charles Courthouse :.**

"The District Court with the Honorable Judge Reinhold presiding is now in session. All who have business before it will now come to order. All rise. Be seated."

The clerk stood. "We call to order the case of The People of the State of New York versus Morgan Corinthos."

Jake swallowed roughly as he stared at the back of his best friend's head. Morgan was seated next to Diane, looking calm on the surface, but Jake knew better. His best friend was livid, and this was all his fault.

The courtroom was crowded. The Mayor's office had turned this into a crusade, a media circus, a spectacle at Morgan's expense. District Attorney Alexis Davis had petitioned to be removed from the case citing a conflict of interest, seeing as how one of her daughters was the defendant's half-sister and the other was his cousin. She had been granted that reprieve and now sat in the audience with Kristina, watching her best friend defend Morgan against ADA Scott Baldwin's impassioned tirade.

Sonny and Jason sat together, dressed in matching black suits. Their expressions were hard and stoic, giving nothing away. Johnny Zacchara, who had long since been cleared of any and all accusations of taking over the Corinthos organization, sat next to Jason in a show of solidarity and support. His wife Nadine was with him, and Elizabeth sat next to her and Robin. Patrick was in surgery and had sent his wife in his stead, along with the Drake family's best wishes to Sonny, Jason, and the Jacks family.

Cameron and Michael were sitting together, and Spencer, who arrived late but was let in due to his royal status and general clout, took his reserved seat next to them. His wife was in England finalizing a few contracts before their assets were fully consolidated under Cassidine Industries, but she sent the group her best wishes for Morgan's speedy acquittal. Carly and Jax and Cecily sat together, and Carly never let go of her husband's hand. Mal was there to support his girlfriend, and sat with the Jacks family along with his sister Anna, who was there for her best friend.

Jake sat in the second row, right behind the defendant's table. He was lined up perfectly between Diane and Morgan, and no one had dared to take the first row. Amalia sat quietly next to him, rigid in her seat and making absolutely no contact. Though the use of cell phones was prohibited, Amalia had hers hidden in her purse on speaker so that Molly, who had taken the morning off, could listen in from her Manhattan loft.

It was because of them that Morgan sat in that chair right now, facing homicide charges and twenty-five years to life in prison. Elizabeth knew better than to try to dissuade her son from attending his best friend's trial, but she worried about the dejected set of his shoulders and the haunted look in his eyes.

She had absolutely no idea that the reason was that Jake knew that he should have been the one sitting in that chair right now, nodding slowly as Diane whispered in his ear.

Amalia had offered her assistance in ways Jake couldn't have even imagined when he set out trying to find out who was responsible for framing Johnny Zacchara and trying to seize control of the Corinthos organization. She had picked up a trick or two or twelve from her ruthless aunt in Italy, and since she was a girl and only took care of some of Johnny's legitimate business interests, no one suspected her in the least.

She called up Molly in Manhattan and offered her best friend a few leads, and together they discovered who was behind it. An old enemy harbored a long-standing grudge with Sonny and Jason for stealing part of his territory some thirty years ago and had held out, biding his time, and seized his opportunity with Amalia and Morgan coming of age.

He knew that there were rumors going around about the Zacchara organization running down the clock, due to the fact that Amalia was a girl and as of yet unmarried, meaning that Johnny had no one to start grooming to take over, and made it look like the head of the Zacchara family was growing reckless – reckless enough to take what belonged to Sonny Corinthos's little boy, the high-priced, do-good lawyer in the Ivy League suit.

Amalia learned his name from her own investigation and Molly dug up the necessary dirt. When Jake and Amalia collided in the coatroom at the Grille while having dinner with their respective families, Amalia slipped him the file on a flash drive smaller than her pinky, and Jake knew exactly what to do with it.

Molly's research was painstaking, and the results were impeccable. Amalia had given him all the necessary information about the enemy's businesses and whereabouts, even going so far as to give him a rough sketch of his house as she remembered it from the few times the Zaccharas visited that associate. Jake had summoned Chase and Penn, the top guards in the Corinthos organization that Morgan had allowed him to use, and together they did what they had to do.

Jake assumed that he would feel something as he stood by Chase and Penn as the guards drew their guns and fired. He assumed that he would feel guilt, conflict, confusion, as he watched the enemy fall to the ground with two bullet holes between the eyes.

Instead, all he felt was relief. This was the man that wanted Morgan dead, and wanted to use Amalia's family to do it until they met the same end. If he had been allowed to succeed, Morgan's entire family would have been bankrupted and killed, but not before Sonny and Jason mowed down Johnny for allegedly being the cause of it all. It was a relief to be able to protect those people that had been with him for most of his life and influenced him in the best possible way.

The relief was short-lived, however. The next day, his pop arrived at the door of Morgan's swanky penthouse with two officers in tow and booked his best friend for first-degree murder.

Scott Baldwin couldn't have been happier. Even now, Jake could tell he was having a hard time not breaking out into a jig during his opening arguments.

"The defendant, mob heir Morgan Corinthos-"

Diane was on her feet in a flash. "Objection! Your Honor, please. This is ridiculous. We're not even out of the gate, and already he's kicking up dirt."

Judge Reinhold agreed and arched a brow at Scott. "Mister Baldwin, rephrase."

"Very well, your Honor." A minor rebuke like that in no way diminished Scott's smug sense of victory. He had tried – and failed – to put Sonny Corinthos behind bars, but now he got to do that to his boy instead. Things had a way of evening out. "The defendant, alleged mob heir Morgan Corinthos, has the perfect motive to fit these allegations."

Jake looked over to see Carly squeeze her husband's hand. Jax shifted in his seat, his posture stiff and tense, and covered her hand with his own. Next to him, Amalia remained stoic and hard.

"The victim, a Mister Alfonso Biancardi, was an alleged mob rival. The defendant is charged with killing him after Biancardi attempted to seize control of the defendant's assets, including but not limited to valuable real estate holdings and waterfront bases from which he operates his business."

His neck felt hot and itchy, but Jake knew better than to loosen his tie. Any movement on his part, especially the overtly-guilty collar tug, would be immediately noticeable to the jury due to his position right behind his best friend, in their direct line of sight as they half-glared at Morgan.

"As documented, Biancardi allegedly sought to harm the defendant's mother and half-sister, Mrs. Caroline Corinthos-Jacks and Miss Cecily Jacks. They escaped unharmed, but the attack had already been established. Biancardi also allegedly sought to steal Mister Corinthos's birthright, the profitable business that has remained in his family for nearly four decades and of which he assumed full ownership several months prior. In addition to all this, the victim also disturbed the peace between rival alleged mob families in this town, the peace that kept the defendant and his family safe throughout his entire life thus far. These reasons and more account for why the defendant felt that Mister Biancardi was a threat that needed to be eliminated."

"Your Honor-"

"Sustained. Continue, Mister Baldwin."

Jake swallowed roughly and glanced across the courtroom at his brother. Cameron caught his gaze after a moment and glared – hard.

The corner of his mouth curved downward just slightly as he forced his eyes to look straight forward again. Baldwin was going on and on, clearly enjoying the power of his opening remarks and the way the conviction-happy jury that had remained a secret up until the day of the trial to prevent tampering, hung on his every word.

Instead of listening to the old blowhard go on about Big Bad Mobster Morgan, Jake focused instead on discreetly studying the jury. He memorized their faces and the few names he knew went with them, and noticed a few telling quirks as well. Before long, he knew exactly which ones he'd target first.

It would probably be better to go with blackmail than bribery; they were already pretty late in the game since the court worked so hard to keep the identity of the jury members secret, and there was no sense in taking the risk that some of those people would actually have a false sense of nobility or ethics.

His gaze strayed back to Morgan, traveling along the rigid line of his shoulders. If there was one thing Morgan had become good at, it was appearing composed when he really just wanted to put his fist through something. This was killing him, being on trial like this, and he knew that Morgan was thinking of his future aspirations and thinking that they were pretty much washed down the drain with this development.

Baldwin and the PCPD had it all wrong. Morgan Corinthos wasn't a murderer. Jacob Webber was. While he hadn't pulled the trigger, he had given the order. And he hadn't felt the least bit guilty afterward. In fact, he knew as he watched the blood pool on the floor by Biancardi's head that he would have done it again if it meant protecting Morgan and Amalia.

Because in truth, Biancardi sought to seize _Jake's_ birthright. The business was turned over to his father on his first birthday, the birthday Jason missed, first, because he wasn't a part of his life, and second, because he was signing contracts for Diane just like Morgan had done that night at the No Name so long ago. Biancardi sought to steal what would be his one day, and Jake worked too hard and came too damn far to let that happen. The business would not be going to some sweaty, liver-spotted old goat in an expensive suit. It would be going to him.

Biancardi was the one to shatter the peace that allowed him and Morgan and Amalia to live relatively normal lives. Morgan and Amalia had a guard during their childhood, sure, but they all did the things children did anyway. The peace between the families was why Amalia could sleep over at Cecily's, why Michael could sit at the kitchen table at 234 Cherry Blossom Lane and wolf down Elizabeth's brownies with the rest of them, and why Johnny Zacchara thought nothing of buying all the kids, including Morgan, an ice cream cone on a hot summer day when the truck was idling down their street, playing that "Pop Goes the Weasel" song that gave Elizabeth hives.

Biancardi sought to ruin what kept all the kids safe, together, and such an important part of each other's lives, and for that he earned his fate.

But Morgan was blamed for it when the police found the body due to a freak accident when a boat capsized in a murky corner of the Back Bay where he'd ordered Chase and Penn to dispose of the body, and now his best friend in the whole world, his brother for all intents and purposes, was looking at a possible jail sentence. Morgan Corinthos, the newest member of the New York Lawyers for Justice (a supreme twist of irony), was willing to go to jail for Jake, and Jake vowed not to let him down

He started this, and he was going to fix it. Morgan would be acquitted, his record would be wiped clean, they'd stage a huge publicity blitz against the PCPD and the Mayor's office, and everything would be right again. Morgan could go back to superficially running his father's business and taking part in the legislative and social welfare organizations he'd only just insinuated himself into, and all would be fixed.

Somehow, he'd make it happen.

The biggest problem was Diane. She was a shrewd, intuitive woman who spoke her mind and never let anyone get away with anything. She'd been that way since he was a child. And that was why Diane knew enough to keep her eye on him. He had the feeling she knew that he would try something to save his best friend, even though she had no idea just how deep into the underside of Morgan's world he was. And there was no way Morgan could fire her yet as his lawyer because, first, he was currently on trial and that would be ill-advised, and second, because he didn't have his legs in the business yet. Once it was the two of them running things, Diane would be out.

He glanced over at his brother again and found Cameron still glaring at him, and Jake knew there was one other person in the room besides Amalia and Morgan that knew just how deep into this he was.

He sighed but didn't look away from his older brother's dark stare, even when he felt Amalia reach over and take his hand in hers. He clasped her fingers tightly in his, her soft palm against his rough one, and Cameron's lips curled into a half-grimace, half-sneer, before he turned in his seat and faced forward once more.

He remained that way for the rest of the day's proceedings.

* * *

**.: Cecily Jacks's suite, MetroCourt Hotel :.**

Jake Webber was deep in thought as he poured himself a glass of sparkling water at the wet bar. Cecily was at Mal's apartment with her boyfriend and Anna, still upset a couple hours after the court adjourned for the day. They all knew that Sonny and Jason were keeping an eye on Jake, not wanting him to get too close to this, so Cecily had given him the key to her suite to use when he needed a secure place to work where he couldn't easily be found. Carly and Jax were used to some of the kids dropping by Cecily's suite whether she was there or not (the girls usually did to borrow clothes), so no one paid him any mind.

He looked over the instant he heard the doorknob turn, his hand already on the gun hidden at his hip, and relaxed only when his brother poked his head in. Jake withdrew his hand from his side, hoping it didn't look too obvious. He hadn't yet told Cameron that he started carrying a weapon – legally, he had the license and everything to prove it – and he wasn't particularly looking forward to that conversation.

"How'd you know I was here?"

Cameron shut the door, his gaze never wavering from his little brother's. "CeeCee told me she lets you use this place. Figured you'd be here now."

Jake pressed his lips together and left his water sitting on the counter, untouched. "Uh, what – what do you need?"

"It was you."

Cameron didn't yell, he didn't sulk, he didn't even look particularly shocked. He just stood there, calm but unmoving, and said it low and hard, never once flinching from his brother's gaze.

Jake turned so that they were fully facing each other. "What?"

"It was you," Cameron repeated softly. "You were the one responsible for that mob rival's death. Did you pull the trigger? Did you see him die? Does it even matter? You gave the order, I know you did."

His brother always had been able to read him better than anyone, and Jake wasn't surprised by this turn of events. The seconds ticked by as the brothers stared at each other and finally, Jake couldn't take it anymore.

He turned just slightly and lifted his glass, taking a small sip. It was his nature to revert to his caustic, bitter self when he felt like he was under attack. Setting the glass down, he quirked a brow at his brother.

"So, what, you gonna turn me in?" he asked dryly.

If Jake hadn't picked that exact moment to duck, Cameron's fist would have done considerable damage. He dodged it in the nick of time and held up his hands, grabbing his brother's wrist and his shoulder to keep him at bay. "Okay, okay!"

Cameron restrained himself but still glared at him, and Jake let go only when he was sure his big brother wasn't going to try to slug him again – not that he didn't deserve it. "Look, what's done is done. It can't be taken back. So it doesn't matter."

It was as good an answer as Jason Morgan had ever given, but Jake didn't know that. All he knew was that he didn't want to tell his brother something that he'd be one day forced to testify to in court.

He tugged on his shirt and turned back to the wet bar. "What's done is done, Cam."

But his brother was shaking his head. "No, Jake. It's just the beginning." He reached down and covered the glass Jake was about to lift, pushing it back down onto the marble. "I can't believe you. What were you thinking, getting involved in this?"

"You knew that I would be involved in this ever since we were kids," Jake replied softly, looking straight ahead. He knew what he would see in Cameron's eyes if he looked at him: disappointment, hurt, anger, confusion. He didn't want to see any of that, especially since it would be nothing compared to what his mother would feel when she found out the truth.

"I knew you wanted the business," Cameron allowed, "but I didn't know how serious you were about it. Jake, you _killed_ someone for Morgan."

"Two someones, actually," he replied lightly.

His brother's expression didn't soften. "You're just like him. You kill for Morgan just like he killed for Sonny."

That got a reaction out of him, and Jake whirled on Cameron. "He killed for Sonny mostly because of blind orders. You know what a stupid fuck Sonny can be sometimes, especially when it comes to the business. He would give the order, Jason would do it. Morgan didn't order me to kill anyone. Morgan didn't even know what I was up to. He didn't give me an order, and I certainly didn't _obey_ him like a fucking dog."

It was the truth. After all, Jake Webber didn't do so well with orders. And Morgan knew better than to try to give him any.

"Are you honestly not seeing the part where you _killed_ for him?"

Jake looked over, his gaze sober. He knew that being a doctor made his brother believe in the sanctity of life even more than he already did as a human being, and tried to make him understand. "Morgan is a brother to me. I love him the way I love you, and I always will. Biancardi wanted to steal everything from him and kill him in the end, but not before he got Sonny and Jason to kill Johnny and his family. I already know I'd die to keep Morgan safe-"

"You already almost did once," Cameron interjected quietly, remembering the shooting on the docks when Jake was just seventeen.

Jake gave him a look. "Cam, if it's a matter of keeping Morgan _and_ Amalia safe, then not only would I die, I'd kill."

"Which you have."

"Hypothetically."

Cameron sighed, looking more tired than angry this time. "Jake, Morgan has other people that are willing to handle that work."

"Hypothetically, other people may have been the ones pulling the trigger." He took another sip of his water. "Look, Morgan's not cut out for this business. He's a good guy, a genuinely good man. One of the best I know. He wants to help people, he wants to make this world a better place, and he's naïve enough sometimes to think that he can. The only reason he's made it this far is because he's taken almost all of my advice and let it ride on that."

Jake tapped his nails on the black marble and met his brother's gaze directly. "Morgan would be dead now if I wasn't a part of this. And Amalia – I will never let _anyone_ use her. For anything."

Cameron let out a sigh and folded his arms over his chest. "You kill people now."

"Only those that conspire to kill me, or those I care about," Jake replied evenly. "And no, I don't see anything wrong with that. They take their lives into their own hands if they try to come after us."

"You're just like him, you know. You might not take orders from Morgan the way he did from Sonny before he took over, but you're just like him now if you do this."

He smiled coldly. "If I'm going to outdo him, then I have to be like him. Whether I like it or not."

"You don't _have _to outdo him," Cameron burst out. "Don't you see? I didn't say anything all these years because I knew this was something you had to work out for yourself. Sometimes, I think I got off easy. My biological father died. You had to live every day knowing that yours was walking around town, being a father to Mike and Morgan, and that he didn't want you or us. I never felt I had a right to say anything about how you dealt with your grief and anger."

He let out a short breath of exasperation and frustration alike and walked slowly across the room, finally sitting down on the arm of one of Cecily's sofas, imported all the way from Italy so that she felt more at home.

"But I have to say something now. Jake, it's not a game anymore."

His brother arched a brow at him coldly. "I never thought it was."

"What about when we were kids?" Cameron peered at him anxiously, and he was suddenly reminded of the cautious but inquisitive person his brother had been even as a child. "You used to needle Jason all the time. It was a game to you then."

"Maybe," Jake allowed. "But things have changed. Back then, I needled him because I felt like I had no control over my life. Mom got pregnant with me and Jason decided it would be better not to publicly acknowledge that he loved her or whatever and that I was his son. It was all decided long before I knew what the hell was going on. I had no control over any of it, otherwise you could bet your life I never would have let it be that way."

He shook his head. "Needling Jason, dropping little barbs in conversation, made me feel like I had some control. He had the power to abandon me, I had the power to make him miserable. And fuck, yeah, I used it to my advantage. It was the only damn advantage I had over a man like him, a man that wasn't afraid of anyone ever and did whatever he wanted without fear of consequence.

"And now…" He drummed his fingers on the counter again. "Now it's real. Because I'm in control now. I can't change what he did to me or to Mom, but I can actually take steps to make him pay for it. I'm going to take _every single thing_ he chose over Mom and you and me. He thought running the business was more important and rewarding than being a fucking father? Let's see how he feels when I take it from him, piece by fucking piece, and run it my way, and he has to sit and watch and be powerless, just like I was when I was a kid."

Cameron nibbled on his lower lip, a habit he picked up from their mother. His brother's bitterness ran deep; it was something he had always known, something he dared to hope he could solve for him. "You're still planning to do that?"

"You bet your ass I am," Jake snorted. "I'm going to take everything from him, and he's going to sit and watch. He wants to take our secret to the grave? Well, so will I…and I'll take everything he picked over me, too. When I'm done with him, he won't have anything. And he'll be left thinking about how he could have had the business, his friends, a wife, and kids if he wasn't such a low-down, miserable son of a bitch."

His brother's eyes were downcast, his voice soft. "You know, I always kind of hoped that you'd grow out of your desire to destroy him like that. I knew it probably wouldn't happen, but I hoped you would all the same."

"Because you're too damn nice for your own good."

"Because I don't want this anger destroying _you_," Cameron emphasized. "I don't want you turning out as empty and alone as you want Jason to feel."

Jake offered him a weak smile. "You've always tried to protect me, ever since we were kids. It doesn't even surprise me that you want to protect me from myself."

Cameron shrugged. "Someone's gotta do it. Besides, I hear you're wearing Amalia down. She's starting to outsource the job. Says it's the American way."

"You can't stop me from doing this, Cam," Jake said softly. "I can't let you. I can't let anyone stop me. This is what's driven me since I was a kid and I found out that my own father didn't want me in his life in any way."

"We wanted you," his brother replied. "Me and Mom. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Remorse flickered through Jake's expressive eyes. "Not enough."

And sadly, it was the truth. Jake had lost his innocence the day he learned that his real father wasn't the police commissioner but his best friend's uncle, and that he was walking around enjoying his life and being an almost-father to his closest friend. Jason belonged with him and Cameron and their mother, and he walked away from them and into someone else's family. It was something Jake had never gotten over.

The revelation dictated his entire life from that moment on. Jake discovered that he did _not_ like being made to feel like he wasn't good enough, like he wasn't worth loving, and he vowed never to let anyone do that to him again. He became ambitious, ruthlessly so, and decided that before long, he would be the man that everyone sought out, the man that everyone listened to, the man that everyone wanted to be close to because he was always in the know and he was always right.

He would be that man, and he would make sure Jason saw. The man that so easily opted out of being his father would see how far Jake got, how powerful he was, how smart and how capable and how successful and how wealthy, and how he got there all on his own. Jason Morgan would never be able to point to him and say, 'that's my boy, I taught him everything he knows,' the way Jax and Sonny and Patrick and Nikolas did.

He wanted to give up all claims of fatherhood? Fine. Jake would just make him regret that he ever did.

"I love you and Mom," he said, mostly because it couldn't be said enough. "That will never change. If there's anything good in me, anything that I like about myself, it's because of the two of you. But, Cam, this is something I _have_ to do. I can't let anyone stop me."

His brother nodded slowly. "I know. And – And I get it. For the record, I do. I don't carry around the same baggage as you, I don't get to dictate how you live your life as a result of that."

"You kind of do," he pointed out. "Pop didn't much want to be a father to either of us, anyway."

"He chose to be a father to you," Cameron shrugged. "Mom and I weren't enough for him, but he picked you, so it's kind of similar, but not really. He might not have been too into the idea of being our father, but the fact is that he wasn't, not really. Not by blood. He never _had_ to choose me; I wasn't his blood, and he didn't have to take on the job of raising me. I give him credit for the fact that he did at one point. I never had to live with the fact that my real, flesh-and-blood father didn't want me, like you."

"I know this is going to be hard," Jake admitted. "We're…We're on two different paths. I guess we always were, ever since we found out the truth about Jason. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Cam. But you can't ask me to give this up. I can't do it."

"And I don't blame you for it," his brother sighed heavily. "I feel like I want to, but I can't. Whatever you want to do, it's your right. It's between you and Jason. I'll always support you, and I'll always be around if you need anything from me. But…Jake, this is going to kill Mom. It'll break her heart."

"I know," he replied solemnly. "Which is why I plan to keep it from her for as long as I possibly can."

* * *

**.: Outside Kelly's :.**

"I swear, I hate Free Milkshake Day."

Jason turned around to see Anna Drake join the line right behind him, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I mean, I like the free milkshakes, but other than that? Total bust."

That got a little smile out of him, despite the fact that he was about to head off to the courthouse for the rest of Morgan's trial. That is, after he got a damn cup of coffee. Anna was probably waiting on the same thing, and would be on hand at the courthouse to support Cecily through this ordeal.

He didn't know much about Anna Drake aside from what he heard from Morgan and Michael. He knew she was a writer and that she was published at a young age and now taught classes at PCU. He also knew that she was a strange woman, and that she would get so deeply involved with her characters that she would start dressing like them and behaving like them in order to really capture them on paper. In one of her novels, a female character was living in the seventies and so Anna went around Port Charles for two months back when she was in high school dressed in bell bottom jeans, halter tops, tinted shades, and with crazy sashes in her hair. She even once demanded to know, on the front lawn of the Mayoral House, how many kids LBJ had killed that day.

(Garrett Floyd had not been amused and promised to turn the sprinklers on her if she did it again. Anna called him a cheese-eater for the Man and ran away.)

Yes, Anna Drake was a strange woman, and she had been that way since she was a child, from what Jason could tell. He would never forget the first day that he encountered her. She was four, almost five, and had just started hanging out at the tree house at 234 Cherry Blossom Lane. He was walking down the street one day, minding his own business, when he thought he heard someone following him.

He remembered glancing over his shoulder and seeing a pair of red patent leather shoes peeking out from under the blue mailbox. Jason kept walking, and when he turned around again, he could see Anna hiding behind a streetlight, scribbling a few doodled pictures into a little notebook since she had not yet learned to write.

He kept walking and she kept hiding whenever he looked over his shoulder, and when he finally stopped and demanded to know why she was tailing him, the little girl burst into tears. And Jason was absolutely positive that he looked like the worst kind of sexual pervert that day, walking down the street toward the hospital with a wailing child (that everyone knew did NOT belong to him) in his arms, kicking her red leather shoes against his stomach and side until he returned her to her mother and father, both of whom were very angry with Robert, who was supposed to be watching her.

In his defense, Robert Scorpio claimed that women named Anna had been one-upping him and giving him the slip for most of his adult life, and that one didn't argue with statistics. One merely learned to cope.

"Every genius in town decides that eight-thirty in the morning is a grand old time for a milk shake," she drawled sarcastically, not appearing to care when she received a couple dirty looks from those that overheard, "while the sane people like us, who just want some coffee, get the shaft."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Yeah."

She folded her arms over her chest, absently brushing lint off the lapel of the little blazer she wore over her pencil skirt. It was lucky for her that court-friendly attire was also college-classroom-friendly attire. "So you heading over to the courthouse now?"

Jason nodded. "Yeah. Needed coffee first. Forgot about Milkshake Day."

Anna glanced at her watch. "Half an hour until the deliberations start for the day."

"Yeah."

He heard her tapping the toe of her shoe against the pavement, and finally, she let out a little sigh. "Can I ask your professional opinion on something?"

God, he hated it when people said that. "You can ask. I might not answer."

Anna had heard enough about the reticent Jason Morgan to know not to take offense. "How good – or bad – do you think Morgan's chances are?"

Jason turned slowly, slipping his hands into his pocket. He knew that Anna was best friends with Cecily, and that she and Morgan had known each other since they were kids. Obviously, the whole group was pretty close and telling one would be as good as telling all of them.

"I don't know."

She gave him a stern look, perfectly fitting a college professor. "You can do better than that."

What was it with all the snot-nosed kids in town these days, thinking they could play the adults like fiddles? Jason tugged absently on his ear and kicked the words around in his head.

"Well…the evidence is pretty damning."

Anna nodded sagely. "I know."

"And Baldwin tried for years to prosecute Sonny."

"And you," she added.

Jason allowed that. "Now that he's got Morgan, he's not going to drop this without a fight. But Diane's an excellent attorney, one of the best, and she'll do everything she can."

Anna caught the eye of a waitress filling milkshake orders inside and waved to her before turning back to him. "Yeah, I've heard that before. Molly and Kay call her Aunt Di, and she's really close with their mother, so I've heard stories about all the things Diane has gotten you off the hook for."

It wasn't meant as a barb, but Jason shifted guiltily anyway. "Yeah."

"I just hate that Morgan has to spend his nights in a jail cell," she muttered, folding her arms around her middle. "I can't even imagine what that's like. He doesn't belong there."

This, they could agree on. "No, he doesn't."

Anna turned warm brown eyes up to his. "Did you know that he joined the New York Lawyers for Justice organization? Talk about irony, right?"

Jason's brows furrowed. "I remember hearing that somewhere, but he never told me about it himself."

"They're called the New York Lawyers for Justice," she repeated, "and they're an organization of lawyers – some practicing, some not – from all different areas of law. They work to find loopholes in real estate contracts and loans and government funding contracts to help underprivileged families buy homes, send their kids to school, that sort of thing. They take turns working as public defenders and taking cases that no one else will, usually pro-bono. They work with lawmakers in the state and national legislature to free up more money for education, for health care subsidies for seniors, for welfare, and everything in between."

"Sounds like a good cause."

"It is," Anna replied emphatically. "And he's the newest member inducted. A person like Morgan – he has no business being in jail and on trial for murder."

A slim blonde in a green apron pushed her way past the line and stepped between them, holding two ready-to-go cups of coffee in her hand.

"Here you are, Dr. Drake," she smiled, handing Anna her beverage and the one she'd ordered for Jason as well. "Yours has cream and sugar and Mister Morgan, I remembered that you don't take any. I put it on your tab."

"Thank you," Anna smiled, taking a small sip. "I'd have killed someone if I had to wait in line all this time. Hypothetically," she added loudly, before leaning in. "People get super testy when there's a murder trial going on."

Her student smiled. "I hear you. Hey, any chance you have our papers graded?"

"Graded, yes. Posted to Blackboard, no. I'll do that before class today."

"Got it," she nodded. "And, uh, for what it's worth, best of luck. To your friend, Mr. Corinthos. I hope he gets off."

Anna smiled warmly. "Thank you. So do we all."

The girl turned and walked away to tend to the other patrons, and Jason and Anna deserted their spot in line.

"Thanks. For the coffee."

She waved her hand. "No problem. I'm lucky that a couple of my students work here – I get a rush on my order every time I come by."

Jason bobbed his head. He wasn't good at small talk, particularly with people he knew very little about. But Anna seemed perfectly at ease with him for reasons that were entirely beyond Jason, and this was Robin's little girl, after all, so he didn't want to offend her by being his normal brusque self. He'd also have to remember to pay off her monthly tab the next time he came to Kelly's.

"I'll walk you to the courthouse."

"Great," she replied, following him down the cobbled walkway that led right onto Elm Street. "I'm so lucky that none of my classes start until noon; I'd be going crazy if I had to talk about gerunds and the subjunctive mood while I knew that Morgan was staring down a jury. I hope they don't drag this trial out. That'll be the worst, but sadly, I wouldn't put it past the mayor, the ADA, or the PCPD. Hacks, all of them. Proof that democracy doesn't work, if you ask me, although I'll deny I said that if anyone else asks."

"Try not to worry," Jason found himself telling her as they waited for the light to change. "Sonny and I are doing what we can to fix this."

"With Spinelli, I imagine," she murmured archly, drawing a surprised look from him. "Oh, yeah, we know all about Spinelli. No one actually _believes_ that he's only a private detective, nothing more. We've known about him for a long time. Moll idolizes him, actually. Has since she was a kid and he showed her his computer."

Anna cleared her throat delicately and switched her coffee to the other hand as they walked down the crosswalk. "I know that you're doing what you can. And I don't mean to make you feel as if you have to comfort the wilting flower over here. You must be torn up about this, too. Morgan's practically a son to you."

Jason paused and glanced down at her, wondering if there was more to that statement than met the eye, but the fact remained that he knew very little about Anna Drake and so had few resources when it came to reading her. "Yeah."

"And it's got to be hell, doing your hardest to get him off, feeling like it's all on you," she continued.

Jason nodded. The truth was that Spinelli was having a difficult time finding evidence to get Morgan off the hook. He even brought his wife in on it, and he only did that when there was a mob situation that he _really_ needed help on. Besides, the DA's office and the PCPD were watching him and Sonny very closely, and any attempts on their part to contact the jury members would result in them standing in front of a jury as well.

"Yeah."

She let him usher her onto the sidewalk as the cars began to move again and turned, facing him. "I'm sorry for what you're going through. It can't be easy watching a guy you've known since he was born get into trouble, when you want to save him but you feel like you can't. But try not to take it all on yourself. There are other people out there who will do whatever it takes to see him acquitted, too."

Anna arched a brow at him and turned on her heel, choosing to bypass the throng of reporters and enter through the guarded side entrance. She joined the group assembled there, a very somber looking Jake, Prince Spencer Cassidine, and Michael. Jason watched Michael cup Anna's elbow and lead her into the building with Jake and Spencer following them side by side, and wondered just which man Anna had been talking about.


	24. Make No Sound

**Note – **Fun times! I can't tell you guys how into this story I am. It's almost lame. This is short. That's what she said. In my mind, Scott, Diane, and Edward, including others, are practically immortal because I NEED them in this story. :-P

**-Mean-**

**-23-**

_You're taking chances_

_And your reputation's going down._

_Going out in the nighttime;_

_You think you make no sound._

-- "Beggar's Farm," Jethro Tull

**.: Penthouse 4, Harborview Towers :.**

"All right, our contact placed the tap," Spinelli said, clicking away on his trusty laptop. "We should be able to get the audio feed as soon as I can configure to it. Gimme a sec…"

Jason rested his arm on the back of Spinelli's chair and watched his fingers fly, just as he used to ever since the boy first started working for him. Sonny had his hands clasped behind his back and was pacing back and forth, watching the two. Technically, the two of them were out of the business officially, but that didn't mean that they could return to their civilian lives. Jason and Sonny kept a close eye on what Morgan was doing, attended all of his meetings with him, regularly met with all the top guards and other staff, and Spinelli pitched in without question when there were technical matters that needed to be addressed. There was still plenty of 'mob work' to do be done even though they were no longer the leaders of the mafia anymore.

"What's so important that you need to tap the interrogation room?" Sonny wanted to know. "It's our standard procedure, just in case, ever since that old temporary ADA made the mistake of asking Diane to work against us and we took it to the grand jury and won, but you seemed pretty adamant that we get someone on it immediately."

Jason pursed his lips in irritation, still staring at the screen. "I had a strange conversation with Anna Drake."

"Patrick and Robin's daughter?" Sonny scratched the back of his head. "What does she have to do with anything?"

"She made some comments that led me to believe that the kids are working on trying to get Morgan out on their own," he admitted, motioning for Spinelli to keep working when he looked up at him in surprise.

"What kind of comments? And which kids?"

"She said that there were a lot of people that would do anything to see Morgan acquitted," Jason repeated. "And, I don't know…"

"She could be talking about us," Sonny reminded him.

"But she wasn't," he replied. "She was telling me something about how she knew that you and I were doing all we could. She was talking about someone else."

"Spinelli?"

"Apparently the kids all know about what he does for us. No."

"Her grandfather? Robert's got a lot of pull in this town, still."

"Robert doesn't like us." Jason shook his head. "And he most likely doesn't care if Morgan gets convicted or not. I was thinking it was Jake or Michael or Spencer."

"We've done our best to keep Jake out of this," Sonny interjected as Spinelli nodded along. "Even before the trial, we tried to cut down on how much time he and Morgan spend together. Jake doesn't know the ins and outs of this situation. He might have some sway with Lucky, but not enough. Lucky wants to see this case through; he sees it as his chance to stick it to us. I doubt he'd even listen to his own kid…"

He trailed off, stunned by how easy it was to refer to Jake as Lucky's son, even in front of Jason, then shook the unpleasant thought away. "Jake doesn't have the clout. He doesn't have the connections. He works for Jax, along with Michael. Plus, Michael's been in London for the past few years. He's spent more time there year-round than he has in Port Charles. I doubt he'd be able to do much on his own."

"There's still Spencer," Jason pointed out. "He's accepted his title as the Cassidine Prince and he's taken over Cassidine Industries. He's got the clout _and_ the connections. He could be the one trying to spring Morgan. If it's true, we've got to talk to Nikolas and have him call Spencer off. The kids have no place being involved in this."

"I'm in," Spinelli announced, adjusting the volume on his laptop so that the men could hear. "We're connected to the PCPD. Let's take a listen."

* * *

**.: Interrogation Room, Port Charles Police Department :.**

Morgan leaned back in his chair and glared up at ADA Baldwin and Commissioner Spencer as the two men stood, arms folded across their chests, glowering down at him. His prison blues were stiff and rough, and the cuffs bit into his skin, but Morgan was above showing signs of such discomfort. He wouldn't give the two assholes standing before him the satisfaction.

"It's too bad you haven't got your legs in the organization yet, Corinthos," Scott sneered. "If you did, there was at least a chance that you could have weaseled your way out of this like your old man used to. But we've got you good, and you're looking at an easy conviction."

He shook his head and placed a hand over his heart, looking at Lucky. "I can't even begin to tell you how good it felt to say that."

The Commissioner smirked. He'd known Morgan Corinthos since he was a boy, but he'd never really felt much affection for him. He knew that Morgan, named after none other than Jason Morgan, would inherit the mob organization Sonny and Jason built and he hated it that Jake was so close to him. Morgan was a low-life like his father and pseudo-uncle, and he couldn't believe that Elizabeth would let their son associate with someone like that.

"Better get ready to head back to that cell of yours," Lucky told him. "Visiting hours are almost over. No more visits from your cronies today. I wonder how many visitors will make the trip out there when you get transferred to the State Penn."

The door to the interrogation room opened and Lucky looked over to see his son arching a brow at him. "Nice, Pop. Real nice."

"Jake." Lucky frowned and turned to face him. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting Morgan," his son drawled, as if he were explaining something to a small child. "Since he can't very well come visit me."

"You shouldn't be here," Lucky told him sternly. "Go back to the office, son. Or go home to your mother."

Jake glanced at his watch. "See, by my time, visiting hours aren't over yet. And if I were to stand here with the door open arguing about whether or not I get to see my best friend, people might hear me telling you that what you and Scott just said to him counts as harassment, and that forbidding visitors from seeing Morgan is against the law. And if Diane were to be standing in the lobby of the PCPD while I was standing here, with the door open, reminding you of all that…"

They looked over to the main desk where Diane was standing with her back toward them, trying once again to get Morgan released on bail. She waved at them off-handedly without even turning around.

Jake looked at Lucky once more, arching a brow. "…It could get pretty hairy."

Lucky scowled and reluctantly elbowed Scott. "Fine. Let's go. Jake, you've got ten minutes, son."

"Plenty of time to file off those handcuffs and run for the border," he affirmed with a nod, earning a rough clap on the back from his father. "What? You think I'm overestimating my criminal abilities? I left the car running in the fire zone just for the sake of this brilliant getaway plan."

He smirked as the two men left the room and grabbed the door knob, calling out, "You hear that, Baldwin? Better grab your book and write me up a ticket!"

He shut the door and turned, rolling his eyes. "Idiot ADA. Barely fit to clean parking meters."

Morgan drummed his fingers on the table top, not particularly caring that his friend saw him in his handcuffs. "Hey."

"Hey." Jake slid into his seat across from him and offered him a small smile. "How you holding up?"

"Fine." It was their customary exchange. "How's everyone?"

Jake glanced at the police officer that was stationed in the room for a high-risk inmate like Morgan. "Good. Your mom's going out of her mind, but Jax is keeping her calm. She's one step away from marching in here with an Uzi and demanding that they let you out…or that they let her in."

Morgan smirked. "Yeah, she would. And CeeCee?"

"CeeCee's been staying over at Mal's ever since this started," Jake replied. "Anna does, too, sometimes. She's really worried, but hanging in there. She doesn't want to see you put away. Mike's been staying with your mom and dad and getting his work done there, remotely. He's not going back to London until this thing is settled. Your Gramma Bobbie's been making more trips to the house, too. So has our dearest Auntie Lulu."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Okay."

Jake glanced again at the police officer that was stationed in the room and at his watch, wondering what the hold up was. He didn't have to wait much longer; in about a minute, the door to the interrogation room opened and another officer poked his head in.

"Hey, Mitch," he said to the guard that stood two feet away from Morgan. "You're up front, buddy. I'm taking your spot until the shift's over."

This confused the one known as Mitch. "Really? On whose orders?"

He shrugged. "Schedule change showed up a few minutes ago on the server. Straight from the Commish himself."

Mitch shrugged and left his post. "Fine. See you later."

Jake and Morgan waited until the officer had gone, then looked up at the new guard.

"Hey, Paul."

"Mister Webber, Mister Morgan."

Morgan smirked at his best friend and leaned a little closer, knowing that the few details they did divulge in front of Paul would be safe. He was one of the dozen police officers that Jake had gotten on the take, and Sonny and Jason knew nothing of it. These were Jake and Morgan's men, loyal to them first and foremost and only secondly to their fathers.

"Any new developments?"

"We got a good look at the jury over the past few days and worked up some stuff," Jake said, trying to keep his remarks bland and neutral. "Mike knows two of them, Spence knows one."

"That's a start."

Jake snorted. "It's not just a start – that's it. There's no way they're passing down a conviction. You have my word on that."

Morgan smiled at his friend's confidence. "All right, I'll take it."

"Also…"

"Yeah?"

Jake grinned. "The judge is having an affair."

Morgan blinked, and then a smile tugged on his lips. "What, you see him accepting appetizers from the female clerk of the court?"

His best friend shook his head. "Adulterers have other tells than not thanking their partners in public. Tells that any experienced and gifted computer hacker can dig up. Anyway, now that we know that…yeah, there's no way they'll be passing down a conviction."

Morgan laughed, and even Paul, the cop-on-the-take, smirked. Shaking his head, he lifted his cuffed wrists and shook Jake's hand.

"Man, am I glad you're on this."

Jake shrugged modestly. "It's the least I can do, after everything you've done for me."

* * *

**.: Penthouse 4, Harborview Towers :.**

Jason, Sonny, and Spinelli stared at the computer screen in muted shock, despite the fact that the monitor showed no video feed, only streaming audio. They had picked up the entire exchange since Scott and Lucky started hassling Morgan, and were stunned at what they heard.

Spinelli swallowed roughly and reduced the volume, finally craning his neck back and braving a glance up at his mentor.

"It looks like the Not So Innocent One is living up to his revised moniker."


	25. The Truth Exactly

Note – Short one. That's what she said.

Also, there is a new promo for Mean called "Watch Over Me." It's in my sig at RTN and in the Promo forum at SE. And it's up on my Youtube channel, username Humatheguma.

**-Mean-**

**-24-**

_Rumors say that you're very sorry;_

_Oh, no, you're not sorry,_

_No, you're not._

_Don't come up to me and say you like it._

_It's better if you say you hate it;_

_That's the truth exactly._

-- "Tonight I Have To Leave It," The Shout Out Louds

**.: The No Name Restaurant :.**

Amalia pressed a kiss to Morgan's cheek, smirking at the red lip print she left. "I figure it was only a matter of time. No jail cell can hold Sonny Corinthos's kid."

Morgan laughed and hugged her back, wincing when his older brother clapped him extra hard on the back just for fun. He retaliated with a 'good-natured' shot in the arm that left Michael groaning. "I'm really very grateful. Thank you, everyone, for your support and for being there for my family."

Elizabeth smiled and looked over at Carly a few feet away. The Jacks were standing with Nadine and Nikolas and Patrick, looking as pleased as could be. Their son had been found not guilty of all charges against him that morning, and Scott looked like he wanted to shoot the whole lot of them when they stood up from their seats and applauded the verdict.

The jury hadn't looked very pleased with their sentence, either, leading Elizabeth to believe that the matter had been somewhat out of their hands. But that was neither here nor there. She didn't question the ruling; she was just glad that Morgan walked free.

A large group of them had assembled at the No Name, Morgan's favorite restaurant, for the celebration. Carly and Jax had called up just about anyone that had any remote connection to their family. Jerry stood with Alexis, who had accompanied Kristina to the party, and Molly would be joining them as soon as she could possibly get off from work. Max and Mio were milling around with some of the other guards that worked for Sonny and Jason and had been taking orders from Morgan for the past few months, and the Spencer family sans Lucky was chatting with Alexis, Diane, and Noah.

Cecily was ecstatic over the acquittal and was sitting next to Sonny, talking her half-brother's father's ear off. Mal and Cameron had just gotten off work at the hospital and, with Spencer and his wife, were now gathered around Michael and Morgan, laughing about something, and Amalia and Anna were close on hand as well. Nikolas and Johnny made the trip out to show their support and their collective relief, and even Jerry Jacks was on hand to congratulate his nephew.

The only one missing was Jake.

Elizabeth scanned the room periodically, looking for her son even though she knew he was tied up at work. The poor kid had been running himself ragged for the last few months. He got to work early, he came home for lunch so that they could spend some time together during the day, and then he went back to work and stayed there late into the night. Sometimes he didn't come home; he either crashed on the couch in his office or stayed at Morgan's penthouse, which was closer to the office than their house, because he didn't want to wake her in the middle of the night when she had to be at work early in the morning.

Lost in her thoughts about her son, Elizabeth was altogether unprepared when her eyes met Jason's. He met her gaze evenly, didn't flinch away like he sometimes did when they were in public. At first it surprised her when he did that, but she was slowly getting used to these very subtle signs that they weren't merely good acquaintances.

She smiled, the corner of her mouth hitching up. This was a happy day for Jason. Morgan had been like a son to him since the day he was born, and today was the day that he was cleared of all charges.

He smiled back, but it didn't reach his eyes. And as she watched him, Elizabeth began to see the worry and the tension that remained etched into the lines on his face, at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Though he was out of the stiff suit he'd been wearing to the daily proceedings, he remained rigid and hard, standing there against the bar counter. Her smile slowly faded as they gazed at each other, and Jason's gaze finally flitted to the door.

"Hey, look who finally made it!" Molly Lansing grinned at her friends as she and Jake walked into the reserved room. She had her computer tucked against her side and her other hand was tucked into the crook of Jake's elbow. "Morgan! Free man, walking."

He smiled and swung her around when she hugged him. Jake, who followed her in, kissed his mother on the cheek and shared a look with Amalia before approaching his best friend. Morgan grinned and held out his hand, using it to tug Jake into a hug. The boys clapped each other on the back and separated, grinning.

Carly smiled and looked over at Elizabeth, and there were tears glistening in her eyes. The boys had been friends since they were kids, and it made Carly so happy that her son and Jason's remained just as close as they grew older. Elizabeth smiled warmly back, folding her arms around her middle as the other kids gathered around Morgan and Jake.

"_Now_ we can start celebrating," Morgan grinned, looking for the bar tender. "Get him a neat scotch, would you? Manhattan for her, please. Moll, how was the trip down?"

"Absolute nightmare, but I had Jake on the line the whole time, so that helped," she smiled back. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the courthouse this morning. I tried leaving the city last night but a last-minute project came up that I couldn't postpone."

"No worries," he assured her. As an IT consultant that took on freelance assignments, her schedule was entirely unpredictable. "We wouldn't start anything without you guys, anyway."

"How about dinner?" Carly called out, clapping her hands for everyone's attention. "We're all starving, and we're all finally here. It'll be about fifteen minutes, so enjoy your drinks until we herd you into the banquet room. Sonny, come with me."

Her ex-husband followed her out of the room to deal with the kitchen staff and instruct them on courses, and Morgan and Jake moved toward the bar, followed by some of the others.

"I feel like such an outlaw," Spencer grinned, careful to make sure that he was out of earshot of his father and the other adults that might object to his misdeeds. "Who knew jury-tampering could be such a rush?"

"Cassidine's turning dark," Michael joked. "Stock up on blankets, guys – next thing we know, he'll be trying to freeze the world."

Spencer snickered at that while his wife rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She was more than familiar with the folklore surrounding her husband's family. "Seriously, though, I've got nothing on this guy."

Jake shrugged modestly, and with his back toward the other side of the bar, didn't notice Jason and Spinelli casually sidle up, appearing to be engaged in their own conversation as they discreetly listened in. "Wasn't nothing."

"You kidding?" Michael clapped him on the back, resting his arm on his shoulder. "We never would have known how to lean on them the right way if you hadn't picked up their tells during the proceedings. And, of course, the cyber-sleuthing that was conducted. That also helped. Just a wee, tiny bit."

Morgan turned to his best friend, serious now. "Everything's in place for tomorrow, right?"

Jake nodded. Behind him, Jason frowned, wondering what the boys had in mind. "Yeah, that's what me and Moll were working on just now when she was making it into town. Mike, thanks for lending me your contacts, they really came in handy."

"No problem. Whenever you need anything, ask. I'm happy to do it. Now, what about tomorrow?"

"Okay, first things first. Diane was already planning on counter-suing, so she's got that in the works. I dropped the idea of a harassment suit against my pop and Baldwin in her head, and she went along with it for shits and giggles. It won't go anywhere, and it's not like Pop'll be stripped of his badge or Baldwin his office, but it's a good smear tactic."

"Serves them right, the assholes," Morgan muttered, darting a glance at Luke and Lulu in the corner. He just didn't trust Spencers. In fact, that was the side of his mother he hadn't altogether warmed up to: the Spencer side. Damn those genes.

"So we've got Diane busy with that, which is great. Hell, any bad press for the PCPD or the DA's office is great. Sorry, Moll, Kay."

The girls shrugged.

"Thanks to the business contacts that Mike gave us, we've got some profitable alliances in the works that will make the newly revamped Corinthos organization or whatever you call your mob outfit these days look even better. So keep an eye out for those calls – you'll be receiving some worthwhile proposals right and left, and the key is to move on them fast so it looks like you're back to your do-goodery ways, so you're hitting the ground running with this after a wrongful jail stint."

Morgan nodded. "Sounds good. Please tell me these are some really press-friendly projects."

"One of them is a proposal to rebuild the community center for the kids in this town," Jake smirked. "You don't get any more press-friendly than that."

"Great, great. What else?"

"Final order of business." Jake took a sip of his scotch and set it down on the counter. "We've got pieces running in all the papers tomorrow about your triumphant victory, the bogus allegations, fabricated evidence and testimonies, the sheer ineptitude of the PCPD and the rampant corruption in the ADA's office."

"Thank you for the distinction," Kristina smiled sweetly. "That was very nice of you."

"I made sure they noted that specifically," Jake assured her. "After all, I have nothing against your mother professionally. Just that ape, Baldwin. Anyway, yes, we've got pro-Morgan pieces running in all the papers. Tomorrow morning, the people of this town will be relieved that you got off scot-free. The day after tomorrow, they'll be enraged that you were even on trial to begin with. The week after that, they'll be laughing at the thought that anyone ever thought you could hurt a fly."

He placed a hand on Morgan's shoulder, lowering his voice. "I told you that I wouldn't let this hurt your future. Not when you worked so hard to help me secure mine. I meant what I said. This will not come back to haunt you, I'll make sure of it myself."

His best friend nodded with a smile. "I know. I trust you with this."

"Everyone?" Carly Corinthos-Jacks cupped her hands around her mouth. "Hey! EVERYONE!"

She grinned cheekily when the whole room whirled around and stared at her and a smirking Sonny. "Dinner's ready. Follow me, find your seats, and enjoy."

The group waited by the counter, letting the adults mill in first, then Molly and Kristina withdrew, followed by Amalia and Cecily and the Drakes, with Michael and Spencer and Morgan bringing up the rear. Jake checked his watch out of force of habit and finished off the last of his scotch. When he set the glass down on the counter and turned around to head into the banquet room, he found himself face to face with his father and Spinelli.

He didn't like being caught off-guard, and that was exactly what Jason had succeeded in doing just now. Jake had no idea how long his father had been standing there, or worse, how much he had overheard. Thankfully, he hadn't said anything too damning. And he hadn't given away Molly or her part in the dealings, so that was something.

"Jason. Jackal."

His father and Spinelli barely nodded back. Their eyes were hard and skeptical, and Jake had the distinct feeling that they were scanning him, searching him for something. He didn't much care for that feeling; it made him feel like he no longer had the upper hand.

And Jake Morgan had always worked long and hard, agonizingly so, to _always_ have the upper hand.

He squared his shoulders and met his father's gaze evenly and directly, refusing to flinch away. Something glimmered in the older man's eyes, something hard and smoldering and just a little sad, and he slowly realized that Jason knew. At the very least, he knew that Jake had not been an innocent bystander during Morgan's trial.

That was fine. Because Jake didn't regret what he did. He would have gladly done a lot worse if it meant clearing his best friend of a crime he in no way committed and helping him walk free. Jason and Sonny should have done their part, but the two of them were such well-known racketeers that the DA's office had taken extra precautions to make sure that their hands were tied during the proceedings. Yet another sign that it was time to oust the old and usher in the new. Their days in this business were numbered; Jake and Morgan's were just beginning.

He knew that this was pushing Jason too far. He had kept quiet about the shooting on the docks when Jake was seventeen to protect Elizabeth, but this was too much. There was no way his father would consider keeping this from her – because this time, he'd be protecting Jake, not Elizabeth. And since the man couldn't even be bothered to stick around and play the Daddy Dearest part, Jake highly doubted that Jason would stick his neck out to cover his ass.

Not that he wanted him to. He'd quietly accept Jason's help if the man felt like offering it – that is, if he felt like accepting it; otherwise, he'd just ignore him – but he would never again ask him for anything. Not a single damn thing.

His father's hand remained tightly wrapped around a longneck bottle of beer, and the glass made a noise as it slid against the countertop when his grip tightened.

"Congratulations." The corner of his mouth twitched downward, and his eyes remained hard as Spinelli grimly watched on. "You won."

And there it was: the bait. It was an invitation for Jake to play innocent, to deny the allegations just like Diane had on Morgan's behalf when the trial first started. It was an invitation for Jake to shoot off his mouth and keep talking until he talked himself right into Jason's hands, supplying whatever information Jason didn't already have in his attempt to clear himself.

Nothing doing.

It was clear that Jason wanted to talk about this, that he had been stewing over this since he found out, perfecting his plan of attack, and that he probably had a list of bullet points in his head that he had to hit. He would probably start out by saying that the mob was dangerous and that he should know better than to take on the DA's office and the PCPD with so little experience and know-how, and he would end with some self-serving lecture about leaving this to the men that knew what they were doing, and how Jason would hate to have to tell Jake's mother about his involvement in this. Naturally, he'd be treated like a fucking child, and an imbecile at that, and Jason would think it was in the name of good, albeit long-distance, parenting.

But he grossly overestimated how much Jake actually cared about hearing what he had to say.

Jake set his empty glass down on the counter and smiled brightly, certain that his eyes were twinkling in that particularly annoying, all-American way. "I know."

With that, he wiggled his brows at the duo of Jackal and Hyde, as he'd taken to thinking of them, and walked past them to where his mother was chatting with Nadine Zacchara, and escorted her into the banquet room.


	26. Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

**Note **– I told you before that I would be moving fast in this story. I didn't just mean that in the chapter-per-day sense (let's see how long I can keep it up!). Time skips around, sometimes days, weeks or even months pass with my barely mentioning it. I've found these 'flashes of life' stories are so much easier to write, and so much more rewarding when dealing with what would otherwise be interminable situations with slow, slow builds. I know we're supposed to 'show, not tell' as writers, but sometimes? Telling seems way underrated.

**-Mean-**

**-25-**

_You're all by yourself_

_But you're not alone._

_You wanted in,_

_Now you're here._

_Driven by hate,_

_Consumed by fear._

_**Let the bodies hit the floor.**_

-- "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor," Drowning Pool.

**.: Morgan's Penthouse, Oceanside Towers :.**

"Jesus fucking…"

Jake closed his eyes tightly when he heard the clink of the bullet being dropped in the little metal tray Morgan had provided. Cameron swore under his breath and dropped the implement he'd been using into the tray as well, now moving fast to apply pressure to the wound.

"Morgan! Where the fuck are you?"

He ran into the guest bedroom with a small bowl in his hand, spilling some of the contents on the rug in his haste. "Here, here's the sugar you wanted."

Cameron took it from him and tipped his head at his old friend. "Help hold him down."

Morgan moved to the other side of the bed and securely gripped Jake's right shoulder and left flank, keeping him still as Cameron applied a good amount of sugar to the bullet wound with bloodied fingers as Jake groaned. "What's that do?"

"Old trick I read somewhere for spur-of-the-moment medical situations," he murmured, rinsing his fingers free of the granules in a basin of warm water that Morgan had also supplied. "Granulated sugar helps blood clot. It's useful in emergencies like this."

"Son of a motherfucking-"

"Hold this towel here," Cameron instructed, withdrawing only when he was sure Morgan was applying enough pressure. "I'm getting the morphine."

Morgan gritted his teeth and pressed firmly down on his friend's injured right shoulder. The past hour had been one of the most harrowing of his entire life. Things had been going pretty smoothly since he was found not guilty in the Biancardi case, professionally if not personally. His father and Jason knew about Jake's part in the jury tampering and how he blackmailed Judge Reinhold, and Morgan knew how conflicted they were about that. Jason could no longer deny that his son wasn't becoming a part of the mob world, and Morgan knew that the thought terrified his uncle straight to the bone. That was what kept him from telling Elizabeth; not the fact that he thought it would be better that she didn't know, because he didn't, but the fact that he had absolutely no idea how to break it to her.

As far as the business went, Morgan had been playing it even safer than usual. It was no secret that ever since he took over the mob, Morgan Corinthos hadn't really _done_ anything. He provided the illusion of doing something, to be sure, mostly to keep his father and uncle from realizing that he had no interest whatsoever in running the business. And though he kept up with the shipments, not particularly caring if the men missed their deadlines and a few here and there didn't make it out until the next time, he didn't spread his wings and do anything else. He knew it disappointed his father and Jason, both of whom had great hopes for him and wanted to see him take the business to new heights, but he was able to persuade them that he was being cautious and playing it cool.

He kept a low-profile in relation to the mob activities ever since his acquittal, and found Jake's advice on the proposals to be sound. So when he invited his friend over to the property on Maple street by the commercial district on the waterfront, the site of the community center they just started building, the last thing Morgan expected was a surprise attack.

All he remembered was looking past the set foundation of the building toward the water, and that's when he heard the bullets. Jake, who had been on the phone with his brother, hadn't been paying attention like he usually did. Morgan had tackled him to the floor behind a big pile of cement blocks, but not before Jake caught a bullet in the shoulder.

Cameron was still on the line and heard everything, and Morgan ordered him to get to Oceanside Towers as soon as he possibly could with medical supplies. Together with Chase and Penn, Morgan got his best friend out of there before too many people realized what had just happened. He and the guards got a half-conscious Jake set up in the guest bedroom of Morgan's penthouse and secured the building, and that was around the time that Cameron arrived with plenty of gauze, antibiotics, and morphine.

"Jake," the young doctor said slowly, drawing out the appropriate dose of the opiate into a sterile syringe, "hold still for me, okay? I'm giving you morphine and it'll take the edge off. Just hang on."

Morgan applied constant, steady pressure as Cameron expertly administered the drug, and let out a relieved breath when Jake finally relaxed as the drug began to take effect. "Thank God."

"He'll be okay," Cameron murmured, reaching for a few pills and a small plastic cup of water. "Barring infection. Jake, take these pills for me. Antibiotics."

He lifted his neck an inch, enough to get the water and pills down, and then relaxed once more.

"How do you feel?"

"Much fucking better," he slurred, exhausted from the ordeal as the morphine made him feel warm all over. "Thank God for drugs."

Cameron sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, relaxing for the first time since he heard the gunshots over the phone. "The good news is, we got the bullet out and it didn't hit any arteries. The bad news is that as soon as we can, we're going to fit you with a sling. You'll have to wear it for a while until your shoulder heals fully."

"Can do that," Jake agreed sleepily. "Fine."

"He'll stay here until that arm's had a chance to heal," Morgan announced. "I'll keep an eye on him, Cameron. Just leave me a list of things I need to do, and I'll make sure he's taken care of."

The doctor nodded. "All right. Jake, you hear that? You're going to stay with Morgan. I'll bring some of your clothes by from the house later, okay?"

"No," he grumbled. "I'll take Morgan's. S'fine."

"He's worried about telling his mom," Morgan muttered, scratching the back of his head. "Shit, man. There's no way we can hide the fact that he took a bullet to the shoulder. And you know my dad and uncle – they're always dropping by here to check on me. They'll tell her if we don't."

"I'll tell Mom," Cameron announced, looking down at his little brother. "Jake's in no shape to do it, obviously, and she's going to be very upset if we attempt to keep this from here even for a day or two. I'll tell our mother. But first, I'm going to dispose of all this and make another trip to the hospital. I'll be back real soon, okay, Jake?"

He murmured something in reply and started to nod off. Morgan went to get a thick blanket for him while Cameron checked on the wound, which was starting to clot. He made sure his brother's vitals were good and that he was wrapped up, and then left him in Morgan's care.

* * *

_That night…_

"How'd she take it?"

Cameron looked up from inspecting Jake's wound and carefully cut off the soiled bandages, reaching for a swab dipped in alcohol to clean the dried blood. "Not good. She was in surgery all day and I caught her toward the end of her shift. I tried to play up the 'accident' part of it. Wrong place, wrong time."

Jake snorted. They both knew that wasn't the truth. He was the deliberate target of a planned attack because word had gotten out that he was instrumental in springing Morgan Corinthos, and that he was more involved in the organization than anyone had previously thought. There was nothing accidental about what happened earlier that day at all.

Morgan let out a sigh and looked out the window at the harbor. A short distance away, he could see the lights twinkling at Harborview Towers, the former seat of the mafia.

"Jake."

He turned, arms folded across his chest, and looked down at his best friend. "You know what you have to do."

Jake stared at him. "…What – what are you talking about? No! No, it's too early – ow, fucking damn it, Cam – we can't. It's too soon. This – this was just a fluke. It's no reason to get scared."

"You caught a bullet in the shoulder, where it could have nicked an artery and killed you instantly," Cameron informed him grimly. "Nothing about that says fluke."

"You know what I mean." Jake gritted his teeth against the sting of the alcohol in the still tender wound. "This doesn't mean anything, Morgan."

"You can say that all you want, but that doesn't make it true." His best friend's dark eyes were solemn and hard. "This is what we've been afraid of ever since we started this. The time's come, Jake. You know what you have to do."

The resurgence of pain was making him dizzy, and Jake reached for the bottle of Vicodin that his brother brought with him. He dry-swallowed one and grimaced at its light bitterness. "It's…It's too soon. I'm not ready. I'm not going to do this until I'm ready! I've worked too damn hard for too fucking long to screw this up by accepting prematurely and-"

"Jake." Cameron smoothed down the last of the surgical tape holding the bandages in place and drew his hands into his lap. "Look, you know I've never said anything about the business, but I have to say something now. Do it."

Jake blinked at his brother in surprise. "…What?"

"Do it," Cameron repeated. "Partner up with Morgan. Run the mob with him, rather than secretly and under the table."

He felt light-headed all of a sudden, probably more as a result of the pain and the Vicodin than shock, and Jake looked weakly back and forth between his brother and best friend. "But – where – why – how are you-"

"You should do it." Cameron's voice was low and firm. "Word's already gotten out, Jake. More and more of your enemies will soon hear that you've been an active participant in all of Morgan's mob activities, and that you got him off the hook for an almost certain conviction otherwise. Anyone who can do that is dangerous, and obviously, some people already decided that you needed to be taken care of."

His gaze strayed toward the clean bandages. "What's going to happen? You're going to keep working like a dog, trying to keep up appearances at Jacks Enterprises while helping Morgan with the mob, your shoulder's going to heal, word is going to spread, and next time, what? You'll catch two between the eyes? Think about this, Jake."

His brother scowled. "I've done nothing_ but_ think about this since I was six fucking years old."

"Then you'll see why Morgan's right to be worried," Cameron persisted. "This is one of those times when it's all or nothing. You can't adequately protect yourself if you're so preoccupied with keeping these connections secret. And if it's a choice between you running the mob and getting shot again, probably worse?"

He tossed down a small, stained hand towel. "I say that you run the damn mob."

"You'll be able to protect yourself better," Morgan agreed quietly. "We'll be able to protect each other better if we come clean with this. No more hiding, no more alibis, no more sneaking around, no more lies. We've got one foot in, anyway. Better just to do it. For our safety. For our futures."

Jake sighed and rested his head against the pillow. "I just hate that I'm not ready."

"But you are," Cameron insisted. "What have you been doing for years, since even before Morgan took over? You've been watching Jason and Sonny and Johnny Zacchara, you've been attending mob functions, you've been meeting associates and honing your skills. You're good at picking up minute things other people wouldn't notice, you know how to get the upper hand, you know how to intimidate people when you have to. Hell, you just manipulated the United States' justice system a few weeks ago. Jake, you're ready. You can do this. Please, consider it."

He licked his lips, preparing a reply, then frowned when he heard a noise. "What's that?"

Morgan winced when he heard the rapid, insistent pounding on his front door. "If I had to guess? Your mom."

Jake closed his eyes and let out a groan. "Oh, Jesus."

* * *

**.: Penthouse 4, Harborview Towers :.**

Carly Corinthos-Jacks planted her hands on her hips. "How long have you known? Were you ever planning to tell me that my son almost got himself killed a few days ago?"

Jason tipped his chin up and fielded the question for Sonny. "Don't get mad at him, Carly. Morgan's a grown man – he would have told you himself if he wanted you to know right away."

"Don't patronize me," she snapped. "You know that I-"

The front door opened and Max apologetically poked his head in. "Uh, Boss? …Miss Webber here to see you."

Elizabeth blew past him with little ceremony, not paying any mind to the stunned looks she received, and glared at Sonny and Jason. "Were you ever planning to tell me that my son almost got himself killed?"

Carly folded her arms over her chest and stared humorlessly at her husband and best friend. "Thank you."

Sonny exchanged nervous glances with Jason, knowing the former mob boss would not do well if he had to answer her. "Elizabeth, please-"

"Don't you _dare_ patronize me, Sonny," she spat as Carly tipped her chin up in a gesture of defiance and solidarity. "You two _knew_ that Jake got shot and you did nothing. I'm his mother, don't you think I deserve to know?!"

"Go ahead, Jase," Carly purred dryly, cocking a brow at her old friend. "Tell her how Jake is a grown man and that if he wanted her to know, he would have told her himself."

Elizabeth balked and turned to her. "They said that to you?"

"You better believe it," she grumbled, still frowning at the two men. "Look, you two, Elizabeth and I aren't going to be pushed away from this. We were a part of your lives once, and now our kids are. We have _every right_ to know what our boys are doing, and you have absolutely no leg to stand on if you try to keep that information from us in the name of protecting us. There was a time when we fought tooth and nail to protect the two of you. We're not going to accept this, and if you don't believe it? Try me."

Sonny closed his eyes. "Carly…"

"You haven't gotten a damn thing right since I arrived," she replied testily. "Why not quit while you're ahead?"

"Cameron told me everything," Elizabeth cut in quietly. The mention of her straight-arrow older son quieted the men down, and Sonny and Jason stared at her. "He was on the phone with Jake when it happened. He heard everything. He heard the bullets, he heard Jake get shot, he heard Morgan tackle him to the ground and call for his men to return fire. He heard _everything_. And then he raced over to Oceanside with a bag full of – of Vicodin and bandages and took a bullet out of Jake's shoulder."

She took a step forward, and then another, her eyes colder and harder than Jason had ever seen them before. "My son almost died. If the bullet had been one quarter of an inch lower, he would have severed an artery and passed away on the spot. If it had been a little to the left, he would have pierced a lung. If it had been a little higher, he would have shattered a bone. Jake almost _died_ and neither one of you had the presence of mind to call me and let me know."

Sonny, despite his poor track record, tried again. "The boys-"

"Cameron told me what happened as soon as I got out of surgery," she interrupted. "He said that Jake didn't want me to find out from anyone else and had asked him to tell me. Dr. Ford wouldn't let me leave the hospital because I couldn't tell him what kind of family emergency came up, so I had to wait until close to midnight to see my son. And that whole time, I never got a call or a message from either one of you."

Jason knew there was nothing for him to say to that, and his expressive eyes glimmered with remorse. "Elizabeth, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know how to tell you…"

"How to tell me that the one thing we were most afraid of happened anyway, despite all the sacrifices we made?" Her eyes were narrowed, and he could hear the tears in her voice. "Yeah, I figured."

Sonny rubbed the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. "Why don't – why don't we all sit down? Carly, let me take your coat."

She passed it to him without question and awkwardly moved past Jason and Elizabeth to the couch. Jason rested wearily against the hutch of the sofa, but Elizabeth remained standing, her spine stiff and straight.

"This is exactly what we were trying to protect Jake from," she said quietly. Carly and Sonny, momentarily on the same side, exchanged uneasy looks. "This was the main reason why we didn't get married and raise the boys together. And now…"

Jason looked away, unable to bear it, but Elizabeth wasn't done.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his gaze. "Obviously, there's a mob war on the horizon. Something's going on, and Jake is in the thick of it because of his friendship with Morgan. But I won't let my son be anywhere near it."

He looked up, confused, and was altogether unprepared for what she said next.

"Jax and I have spoken." She cleared her throat and looked around the room. "He's agreed to transfer Jake to his London headquarters and offer him a contract there for a period of three years. If the situation at home hasn't improved by then, Jax says he'll be prepared to renegotiate with Jake for an extended contract with his British offices."

Carly's lips parted in surprise. "You – You want to take Jake away from Jason?"

Elizabeth's eyes flicked to hers. "Jake was never with Jason to begin with."

Sonny was on his feet in seconds. "Elizabeth, you can't do that. You can't just-"

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what I can and cannot do concerning my son."

This time, though, Sonny wasn't about to back down. "That's fine when Jake was a child, but not anymore. He's a grown man, Elizabeth. Maybe the fact that he still lives at home is throwing you, but Jake is an adult, he's fully capable of making his own decisions. A twenty-five year old man does not need his mother to run his life-"

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"You're making one of the most important decisions of his life for him," Sonny shot back. "You're taking him away from his best friend, from you, from his brother, from all of the people that he's known his whole life and for what? Because you're afraid? We've been having this same backwards argument for the last twenty-five, thirty years!"

"Sonny," Jason warned, "don't talk to her like that. Elizabeth's trying to do what's best for Jake, and if we just talk about this, I'm sure we can-"

"I don't believe you, Jason." Sonny ran his hand through his curls, thoroughly exasperated. "I watched you two talk things out when Jake was born, when he was a baby, and I never agreed with any of it. I had no problem telling you about that, either, until Michael got shot."

His voice wavered slightly but he cleared his throat and forged on. "After that, everything changed. You two had to protect your son the best way you knew how. But now?"

Sonny shook his head, starting to pace. "It's different. Jake's not a baby anymore. The world isn't going on around him; he's a _part_ of this. He's an active agent in his own life. He can make his own decisions, and the two of you can't lead him around by the hand anymore. Hell, if Michael came to me today and told me that he wanted to be a part of the business, there wouldn't be anything that I could do to stop him or dissuade him. He's a grown man that can make his own decisions, just like Jake.

"He's not a baby anymore," he repeated, mostly because Elizabeth and Jason kept talking about him like he was. "He's old enough to understand what being friends with Morgan means. He's old enough to know what the mob is and how it functions. And he's old enough to make his own decisions about how to protect himself."

Carly was nodding along, provoking Jason's irritation. "Now you agree with this?"

"Yes," she replied evenly. "There's a big difference between you not telling me something about my son because you think it will upset me, and me trying to actively rearrange my son's life so that I won't be upset by it."

Elizabeth balked. "That's not what I'm trying to-"

"That's exactly what you're trying to do," Carly informed her without malice. "You're afraid for him, so you're going to take him away from the mob just like you did when he was a baby. And, fine, I don't have any right to say anything about that, that's not what I'm trying to do. We should _know_ when our boys' lives are in danger, but we don't have the right to try to stop them from living their lives. Jake should be able to make his own decisions."

She huffed under her breath and turned her face away a fraction of an inch. "Because you two have made enough of them for him over the years."

Jason snarled. "What was that, Carly?"

She didn't acknowledge his anger with a single glance. "Nothing. Do whatever you want. Let her ship your kid off to England so you don't even see his face for the next however many years. Do what you want. Or, based on your track record, exactly what you don't want."

Elizabeth closed her eyes wearily. "Look, I didn't come here to argue about this."

"No, you came here to tell Jason that you're sending his kid off," Sonny replied. "And, fine, that's your business. You're the one that has to live with it. I've said my peace, and I'm not going to say anything else. It's up to you and Jason what you want to do for Jake…despite the fact that he's a grown man and he's proven that he's more than in control of his own life."

The last part was added with bitterness, and earned Sonny a warning look from Jason. Jason still hadn't told Elizabeth about the jury tampering, finding that he just didn't know how to do it, and Sonny's bitterness about it would only raise a red flag.

"You guys do whatever you – oh." He frowned when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket and pulled it out to see his son's name on the LCD. "Excuse me."

He flipped it over and pressed the speaker button; his hearing just wasn't what it used to be and his damn phone was always giving him trouble with volume. "Morgan. Hey, son, you're on speaker. Say hello to your mother."

"_Hi, Mom."_

"Hi, honey." Carly folded her arms over her knees, almost resting her head against her ex-husband's shoulder. "You doing okay?"

"_Fine, Mom."_

"You're feeling okay, right? And you're staying safe?"

"_Yes, Mom."_

"What do you need, son?"

They all heard Morgan clear his throat. _"I actually needed to tell you something, Dad. About the business."_

That got his father's attention. "What about the business? Do you need help with something? Jason and I can meet you in fifteen minutes."

"_No, no, I don't need you or Uncle Jason for anything. I just figured I'd tell you this myself before you heard from someone else."_

It was a phrase they'd all heard often enough in their own ways, and Elizabeth and Jason exchanged curious looks.

"_The time's right, Dad. I'm naming a partner. Getting it all taken care of now, and if you want to come see it happen, you're more than welcome to."_

Sonny's jaw dropped, and a good moment passed before he could sputter, "P-Partner? Who?!"

"_Jake Webber."_


	27. I Don't Need To Be Forgiven

**Note **– You guys are awesome. And per a reader's questions, I'm fluid with ages in this story. Let's just say that all the parents are in their mid to late forties? Does that work for everyone? Great. :)

**-Mean-**

**-26-**

_I don't need to fight_

_To prove I'm right._

_I don't need to be forgiven._

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah._

-- "Teenage Wasteland," The Who

**.: Offices, Warehouse 52 :.**

"You have to do something! Those awful, awful children!"

Sonny scowled at Diane as he, Jason, Carly and Elizabeth marched down the hall to the main conference room. "Diane, what the hell? Where were you? How could you let him do this? And without telling me?"

"Not so fun to be left out of the loop, is it?" his ex-wife snipped, elbowing him roughly until she remembered that she was on his side. "Well, Diane? How could you let this happen?"

"I didn't let anything happen," she hissed, stomping her foot. "It was those awful children! And that's not my fault – you four are the ones that raised them."

"Diane," Jason tried, holding up his hands. "What happened?"

"The Boss called me into his office," she drawled, "and informed me that I was being let out of my contract."

Elizabeth and Carly stared at her. "What?!"

"I'm being let out of my contract," Diane hissed again, this time glaring at Sonny and Jason. "Your boys have decided to set me up with a nice severance package and send me on my way. Unbelievable! Get in there and _do_ something for once! After all the times I've saved your ass, you owe me, Corinthos. Morgan."

"How could Morgan do this?" Sonny wanted to know.

"Because he's an awful, awful boy!"

"No, I mean-" He cut her off with a wave of his hand. Jason scowled and pulled open the door to the conference room. "The organization needs a lawyer – he knows that. What's he going to do if he fires you?"

"Gee, Dad, did you forget that _I'm_ a Bar-certified lawyer?" his son smirked, looking up from the contract before him. He tipped his head to his right, where Kristina stood next to Jake. "So's Kay, for that matter. Between the two of us, we've got things covered."

"Kristina?" The incredulity in Sonny's voice was quite insulting, and the young woman in question stiffened at it. "What are you doing here?"

"Every boy needs a lawyer, right, Daddy?" she asked humorlessly, very gently placing a hand on Jake's injured shoulder. "Especially those in the business."

Elizabeth gasped at the sight of her son. He was wearing his jeans and a black dress shirt with his left arm up in a sling, signing whatever documents Kristina kept sliding under his nose. He looked tired, poor thing, like he had absolutely no business being in that room.

"Jake, what are you doing?"

He scrawled his signature on another line before looking up at his mother. He knew that she had to have been at Sonny's penthouse if she knew what was going on and had shown up, but he didn't bring it up. It was her business where she wanted to be; she most likely only went to Harborview to pick a bone with Morgan's father, anyway. "I'm accepting the offer to be Morgan's partner."

"Sign here and here," Morgan murmured, sliding another contract toward him.

"I got this, thanks," his half-sister smirked, tapping the paper for Jake. "My client. Initial there, and date there."

"Oh, God," Carly murmured, covering her hand with her mouth. She had seen this before, the day that Sonny transferred full ownership of the mob to Jason. She'd seen the papers, the attorneys, the deliberations, the accountants. And then she'd gone to the park to make an appearance at Jake's birthday party, as Jason requested.

"Morgan." Sonny's eyes were hard and stern. "What are you doing?"

"Naming a partner," he replied brightly without looking up from the contract he was quickly scanning. "Just like you said I should if I wanted to."

"I also said for that partner _not_ to be Jake," his father reminded him.

"Yes, and I heard you the first time." Morgan glanced up and smiled. "And your concerns were duly noted, but after all, this is my business to run as I see fit."

"Morgan Stone Corinthos-"

"It's done, Dad," he cut him off evenly. "It's done."

Sonny ground his teeth together as Elizabeth's eyes began to glisten with tears. "Jake, you – you're actually doing this?"

He nodded, carefully adjusting his bad shoulder as he leaned forward to sign again. "Yeah."

"But – But…" She was at a loss for words, and even earned a sympathetic look from Carly. "You can't! Don't you know what you're doing? You're signing on to be a part of the mob!"

Jake licked his lips and braved a glance at her. "I know, Mom."

Elizabeth stared at him. "…You'll be involved in illegal activities! You'll – Jake, you'll be killing people. You'll be in danger. How can you enter into this so easily? So willingly?"

What she didn't know was that none of this was easy for Jake. He had planned and plotted since he was young, more so as he grew older, always analyzing and rethinking and scheming, and it was never easy. He picked up as much as he could from the businessmen around him – legitimate and not – and was deeply troubled at the prospect of agreeing to be a partner in the organization before he was ready.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be stronger, smarter, better, before he accepted this position. Morgan had twisted his arm and made him do this, convincing him that he could handle it, but Jake wasn't so sure. He knew that Morgan would benefit from this: he wouldn't be solely responsible for the business and with a partner, he could go off and devote more time to his own professional interests. Jake wanted to be able to join the business when he was sure of himself, no longer insecure when it came to his own abilities, but his hand had been forced.

"This is something I have to do."

Elizabeth didn't see it that way. "It's not – you don't _have_ to do this! It's such a big step, Jake, and you can't ever take it back."

"Listen to your mother," Jason advised, bracing his hands against the table. He wanted nothing more than to march across the room and yank those damn contracts from Jake's hands and burn them, but that would accomplish nothing. If Jake wanted something, he would work like hell to get it – he'd already learned that about his son. Besides, if he really forced the issue, Jake would once again throw it in his face that he didn't have the right to order him around because he wasn't his father, and to the eyes of the world, Jason wasn't, so Jake was right.

"She's right. This isn't something that you can give away one day just because you're tired of it. Once you're in…you're in."

Jake looked up at his father, and the anger that he would have never unleashed on his mother rose to the surface. "You really think I'm some kind of fucking imbecile, don't you?"

Elizabeth stared at him, taken aback by the venom in his voice. "Jake-"

"Do you really think I would do any of this without thinking every last thing through?" he demanded, staring hard at Jason as Kristina and Morgan studiously looked away. Even Diane shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Of course I would. I wasn't born into the mob, after all. I have no connection to any of you except through Morgan. Ergo, I must be a fucking imbecile incapable of rational thought and sound business decisions. Clearly, I think the business is a toy that I can put up on a shelf when I'm done playing with it."

"Jake, that's not what he's saying," Elizabeth tried to cut in.

"That's exactly what he's saying," he snorted, dismissing Jason by scrawling his signature on another line and passing it to his lawyer. "You don't have to defend him."

"How are you going to keep your family safe?" Jason demanded to know. "You have a brother and you have a mother that will need protection if you make yourself a target like this."

Jake's eyes flicked back to his. "They will be adequately protected. Just because you never took on a family while running this business doesn't mean it's impossible."

"Don't turn this around on me," Jason fired back. His anger was rising to the surface and keeping up appearances just wasn't as important anymore. Not when his son was going to step into the life that he and Elizabeth sacrificed theirs for to keep him out of. "Answer, if you've got everything planned out, if you're as smart as you think you are. How are you going to keep them safe?"

"I've already taken steps to make sure they're adequately protected," his son practically boomed. "It's not something I take lightly. And all of that notwithstanding, my mother and Cameron are protected by the code in this business."

"The code means nothing," Jason spat. "Everyone knows that. Women and children used to be safe, but they're not anymore. They're fair game."

"Maybe during _your_ tenure," Jake snorted. "The business is changing now. The code stands again."

"Yeah?" Jason planted his hands on his hips. "What about Carly and Cecily? There was a _bomb_ put in their car. If Milo hadn't heard it tick when Carly put her key in the ignition and gotten them out, they would have died. What happened to the code then?"

"It was violated," Jake replied simply. "And do you remember what happened to the man that was responsible?"

He arched a brow at his father, who fell silent. "Gino Biancardi made a big, big mistake when he went after Morgan. He made a big, big mistake when he tried to set Johnny Zacchara up to take the rap. But the stupidest thing he did was target Mrs. Jacks and CeeCee. Because when he did that, he knowingly violated the code. His stupidity was that he thought he'd win, that he'd come out on top and no one would be around to retaliate."

Jake leaned forward as best he could given the cumbersome sling. "Biancardi was killed. Slaughtered, along with his number two. He had no wife, he had no sons, he had no successor in place to take over. Biancardi died, and his organization would have, too. All because he violated the code. His death was a message to every other syndicate head in the area. If you break the code and target innocent women and children, your life and your territories will be taken. Simple as that."

Sonny frowned. "But his territories-"

"Are in our names," Morgan piped up, meeting his father's gaze directly. "I handled the acquisition myself before the Commish showed up on my door with handcuffs. It's done. And Jake's right, the message that was sent was crystal clear. If you put your ear to the syndicate networks right now, you'll hear everyone say that the code is back. Tagliati did the same thing: Someone targeted his illegitimate daughter, he wasted them entirely. The code is back. Women and children and innocent relatives are not to be used as bargaining chips. It's been established."

Elizabeth watched all of this numbly, unable to believe what was happening right in front of her. She had known for some time that Morgan was the town's Godfather, but she had never seen him in action the way she had Sonny and Jason. And it was even more unbelievable to see her son in on all of this. She licked her lips, trying to come up with the words to get through to him. After a minute, she gave it up and just spoke from the heart. "Honey, why are you throwing everything away?"

That got his attention. And when Jake looked over at her, they were surprised to see that his eyes were clear and honest. "I'm not throwing anything away, Mom. This is the best way for me to stay safe."

Jason and Elizabeth both balked at him. "What? How the hell does this keep you safe?"

"What makes you think that?" Elizabeth cut in, seeing how Jake glared at Jason for his outburst. "Honey, please. There are a hundred other ways to stay safe. I talked to Jax and he said he'd be willing to give you a promotion and transfer you to his London headquarters. You'd be working right alongside Michael, and you wouldn't be a part of-"

"It's too late for that."

"But-"

"Mom." He tapped his pen on the paper, holding off on adding his name to the line. "This is the only way. Morgan and I both agree."

Her eyes darted to the other young man, and for just a second, Elizabeth wondered if Morgan was the one that had put her son up to this.

"I think it's time I told you." Jake cleared his throat and glanced at Kristina, who discreetly shook her head, but he forged on anyway. "When Morgan was on trial for allegedly killing Biancardi, I knew he didn't do it personally. I knew he was innocent and that Scott and Pop were just trying to make an example out of him and put him away because they couldn't put Jason or Mister C away back in the day."

Jason and Sonny glanced at each other, each man now wondering if there was more to Jake's certainty of Morgan's innocence than met the eye.

"I made sure the jury didn't pass a conviction," he announced plainly, not even flinching away when his mother's eyes widened in shock. "Me, Spence, and Mike. We made sure they knew the score and that they found him not guilty. There was no way Morgan was going to go to jail for twenty-five to life for something he didn't do."

Carly looked at her youngest son and saw him nod, and Elizabeth was having a hard time processing this information. "But that means-"

"Word got out," Jake supplied, his pen still poised in his fingers. "Someone found out about what I had done. The shooting by the new community center – Mom, those bullets weren't meant for Morgan. He was standing almost three yards away from me, and no trained assassin is that bad a shot. Those bullets were meant for me."

"Oh, God." They watched Elizabeth pale at the confession. "Someone wanted you _dead_? Jake…"

"I know," he replied uneasily. "They wanted me dead because they found out about the lengths I went to in order to make sure Morgan was free, and figured I was a dangerous ally if I could manipulate the system for him like that and hand him Get Out of Jail Free cards."

Despite his weariness, he couldn't help adding a little dig at his father, just a little something sure to get him in trouble later. "You know, I'm surprised that Jason and Mister C didn't tell you guys. They found out about it while the trial was going on, thanks to Jackal, P.I."

He smirked and scrawled his signature on the line when Carly and Elizabeth both glared at Sonny and Jason.

"That's all well and good," Diane interrupted, "you're a little hoodlum and I'm sure everyone's very proud. But this doesn't change the fact that I was wrongfully let out of my contract."

"Diane, we have no place for you anymore," Morgan told her gently. "Kristina has signed on as Jake's lawyer, and she's more than capable of handling the responsibilities that come with this organization. Aside from that, I'm also here to help her out from a legal standpoint until she gets her legs."

Jake sat back in his seat and angled his pen just slightly at Jason, Diane, and Sonny. Though the action was lost on the women, it wasn't lost on Jason. He knew it for exactly what it was: an intimidation tactic. "Look, I'll state it very plainly. Morgan and I will be running things from now on. That's how it's going to be."

Elizabeth still wasn't ready to accept it. "But-"

"We've been together since we were kids," he said softly, looking over at his best friend. "So in some ways, our fate's been sealed since then. We've been a package deal since pre-school, and the only issue now is that our enemies are figuring that out."

Jason and Elizabeth exchanged looks, both of them grimacing at hearing the words 'our enemies' coming out of their son's mouth.

"We've saved each other's lives," Jake added, unknowingly making his parents flash back to a time in their lives when they'd done the same thing, "and that's not the sort of thing people forget. I can understand how someone who had watched us our whole lives would see that kind of devotion and concern as profoundly dangerous.

"They're threatened by us." He smirked and played with his pen, jabbing it slightly in Jason's direction. "So why not give them a genuine reason to be?"

There was a chilling note in his voice that Elizabeth didn't like.

"This isn't any time to chicken out," Jake continued. "We're either all in or we're not. It's either do this together now, take the final leap, or turn our backs on each other forever and vow to stay away."

He slowly lifted his gaze to meet his father's, and ground out, "And I'm not that big a coward."

A tense, uncomfortable silence stretched between them before Morgan cleared his throat, feeling bad for the adults, and Jake continued.

"I know you're scared, Mom," he said. "But Morgan and I are smart enough to know that we're safer together than we are apart. Especially now, after this incident. It would just be stupid to try to make this go away by pretending we don't know each other."

Elizabeth gaped at the boys as Carly discreetly patted Jason's arm, hoping to ease away the stricken look on his face. The little boy they had all tried so hard to protect from the dangers of this life had found his way back to the business after all, and she had no idea how Jason and Elizabeth would handle that, especially in light of all the sacrifices they made to keep Jake safe.

Kristina delicately cleared her throat and pointed to the last page Jake had to sign. Morgan held the page to the table right in front of him since Jake could only use one hand, and passed it to Kristina as soon as it was signed. He breathed a sigh of relief and flashed his best friend a grin, which Jake returned.

Kristina gathered the papers together in her file and dropped that into her attaché case, securely locking it. With a smile, she set it down on the table and held out her hand, shaking Jake's firmly.

"Congratulations, Jacob Martin Webber. You are now part-owner of the Corinthos-Webber organization."


	28. Strayed So Far From Home

**Note – **For simplicity's sake, I've adopted a very simple convention for naming the heads of the Five Families. The group is marked by the letters P, Q, R, S, and T. Don Pozzi, Don Quaranta, Don Ragno, Don Sandoval, and Don Tagliati. Simple. And as always, the Five Families are involved in several plot points in the future. Hell, everything in this damn story is a plot point. Think of it as a million different mini-climaxes. Exhausting. But sexy! (Okay, I'll stop.)

**Crib note for everyone: **Jake's M.O. is to act like a cocky, cavalier, careless bastard in front of Jason, while on the inside he's always going over every single detail, every single angle, every single error, every single possibility. It's why he can seem so free-spirited while also being a total nit-pick and control freak. I tried to kind of weave that into the characterizations of him, but I guess it's just easier to say it plainly.

**-Mean-**

**-27-**

_And maybe the reason_

_I have strayed so far from home_

_Is I have insisted upon traveling alone._

-- "Traveling Alone," Sherwood

**.: Graystone Manor :.**

Morgan had thrown a party to welcome his new partner to the business, but more importantly, to show their associates and enemies alike that the team of Morgan and Webber was unstoppable now that they were together and in it for the long haul. Jason and Sonny were obligated to attend and 'celebrate,' but Elizabeth and Cameron wisely chose to sit the occasion out. Jake preferred this because he didn't want them immediately obvious to their associates, anyway. A little apparent distance went a long way.

Jake was in top form. Cameron had relieved him of the cumbersome sling and he could move around freely now. Morgan, who used to hate these business functions, was right there with him. He and Jake moved around the room in perfect rhythm, grinning, shaking hands, graciously accepting congratulations, and looking every bit the in-sync team they were.

"Jason. Michael." Don Tagliati, one of the heads of the Five Families, approached Sonny and Jason with a glass of wine in hand. "Congratulations to you both. This is a tremendous day for your organization."

Sonny grimaced but managed to pass it off as a reaction to the scotch he was drinking. "We're glad you could be here."

Don Tagliati paid no mind to the non-committal response and leaned in conspiratorially. "In all honesty, I was very surprised when I heard that your boy named a partner. I always supposed that the two of you would dissuade him from ever doing that."

Sonny and Jason exchanged looks, then took a sip of their drinks in unison. "Yeah."

"But Jacob is a wonderful choice," Tagliati beamed. "It was a very smart move on Morgan's part. The boys have been friends for years, so that long-standing trust has been established. And that's what's most important when sharing one's assets and information."

He smirked and looked across the room where Jake and Morgan were grinning at something Don Sandoval, another Family head, was saying. "I remember that boy when he was fifteen. Jacob, that is. He used to make an appearance at some of the functions. Mouth like a sailor and a smile like a snake. And the jokes that boy tells – they'd make even Sandoval's ears turn pink!"

Sonny and Jason tried to smile. "Yeah."

"He's an excellent choice," Tagliati repeated. "I'm sure he and Morgan will take this business a long way. This is the start of something incredible, I'll tell you that much. Before long, all of us Family heads will be stepping down, too, turning the organizations over to the younger ones."

Jason watched his son pull Morgan away from Sandoval, who was heading to the bar, anyway, and say something to him discreetly. Morgan chuckled and nodded, and Jake tipped his head at another associate. Grinning, the boys headed over to him.

Tagliati sighed, not looking displeased. "It's the end of an era."

* * *

"Hey."

Jason nodded at Johnny as the younger mob boss came up next to him at the bar. He ordered a whiskey on the rocks and turned so that both he and Jason were facing the rest of the room.

"Nice party."

Jason shrugged. "I guess."

Johnny slid him a sidelong glance. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Jason wasn't happy with Morgan's choice in partner. Johnny wanted to address it but, after all, he and Nadine weren't even supposed to know the truth about Jake's paternity. Elizabeth never told Nadine and Jason never told Johnny. It was Claudia who found out the truth and told Johnny; between the two of them and his wife, they decided never to let on that they knew until it was unavoidable.

He followed Jason's gaze across the room to where Jake and Amalia were talking to Don Pozzi, another one of the Five Family heads. Amalia was blushing and Jake was gesturing to her, while Don Pozzi looked at the young woman with an expression of awe.

"He seems to be doing all right on his own."

The corner of Jason's mouth curved downward. "Yeah."

Johnny sighed, trying to think of something that would make his long-time associate feel better. "He and Morgan obviously make a good team. I don't think I've ever seen Morgan this animated and excited at a business function. Usually, he's trying to fashion his tie into a noose."

That finally got a little smirk out of Jason. "Yeah."

Johnny scratched his jaw off-handedly, watching Nadine walk by with Don Ragno's wife. "And, hey, Jake's got the business sense and Morgan's got the legal expertise. Jake's ambition will be tempered by Morgan's knowledge of their limits and how far they can push them."

Jason turned his head toward him just the barest fraction of an inch. "You'd call Jake ambitious?"

"Oh, yeah." Johnny didn't realize that his associate was fishing for information. Obviously, Jason knew that Jake was ambitious; he'd seen it in him since he was a kid. "He practically half-grew-up at our house. He and Amalia have been close since they were in kindergarten. A boy doesn't get much more ambitious than Jake Webber, I'll tell you that."

He shook his head, not seeing how closely Jason was watching him. "I don't know where it comes from, but it's been driving him since he was little. I used to wonder about it. Over a relatively short period of time, it felt like he stopped being as carefree as he used to be and really sobered up. Of course, it felt that way with a lot of the kids. Molly Lansing, for example – I don't remember her ever being anything but serious all the time. And everyone's always telling Nadine and I that Amalia's always been a quiet child. Whatever it is that pushes Jake, it's been pushing him for a long time. I think he'll do well, heading up the business with Morgan."

And just like that, whatever sentiment he momentarily shared with Jason disappeared. His associate turned away, once again hard and stoic.

Johnny couldn't say that he blamed him. Jason and Elizabeth made a lot of sacrifices to keep Jake safe and out of this world. And even though he thought they were both stupid – if not stupid, then extremely misguided – he sympathized. It must have been terrible for Jason to see this all play out before him.

"I know you're not happy about the way things turned out," he said lowly, causing Jason to glance at him. "But at least Jake's smart. At least he's got a good head on his shoulders. At least he's a fighter, not someone who'll go down easy at the first sign of trouble."

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I don't know, he's a lot like you. Isn't that at all comforting?"

Jason spared him a hard look and then turned away, but not before Johnny noticed the dejected set of his shoulders. "No."

* * *

Johnny lightly stroked the back of his wife's hand with his thumb as he watched Jake and Amalia a few yards away. Nadine sighed and leaned into him, her hair brushing against his chin as they swayed to the music.

"Saw you talking to Jason earlier."

His eyes instantly flicked over to the mob boss in question, and Johnny found him standing at the bar, staring at Jake and Amalia with an unreadable expression on his face. "Yeah."

Nadine tilted her head back and looked up at him. "How's he doing with all of this?"

"Not good."

She crinkled her nose. "Poor guy. I just want to hug him, but I have a feeling that would tip our hand. Just a little."

Her husband chuckled lightly. "Yeah, probably. As far as he knows, we have no clue. We're just watching a boy we've known his whole life take over the mafia."

Nadine leaned into him again. "It's so surreal, isn't it? I remember him playing Fetch with Kane in our backyard and inviting Amalia up to his tree house. I never would have imagined that the little guy that once called me Nurse Nadie would grow up to be a mobster."

She smirked and winked at Johnny. "But then again, I never figured I'd give birth to a mob princess, either. I suppose I have _you_ to thank for that."

He grinned widely when she gave him a little shove. "I would sure hope you have me to thank for that."

Nadine smiled as he lifted her hand and lightly brushed his lips over her knuckles. "How do you feel about this?"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

He pursed his lips, his gaze once more straying to his daughter and the new co-owner of the Corinthos-Webber organization. "I'm…cautiously optimistic."

Nadine's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Uh-huh."

"How do you figure?"

Johnny shrugged. "It's like I told Jason: Jake's smart. He's got good business sense, and Morgan's the legal brain along with Kristina, so we know they'll have all their bases covered. And he's cautious, both personally and about the business. He's not going to take any stupid risks and, do you know, he's already got a full surveillance outfit on Cam and Elizabeth to make sure they stay safe and don't pay for his choices. He covers all of his bases, and I think he'll do well."

He turned her gracefully and offered her a small, boyish smile. "Besides, I myself have never really fit in with the rest of these old goats. I think it'll be good to have some young blood in the networks."

Nadine rolled her eyes. "That's your mid-life crisis talking."

Johnny laughed and spun her again, this time facing Jake and Amalia once more. His expression sobered as he watched them dance, this time thinking to himself that if things went well, he might be persuaded to lower his standards and allow his only daughter to marry an organization co-head instead of the main owner.

But Jake would really have to prove himself if Johnny Zacchara would be at all willing to consider that.

* * *

Jake let out a huge sigh of relief as the last guests' car could be heard driving away from Graystone Manor and sank down into an armchair in a private lounge room. Sonny and Jason were most likely outside, talking on the terrace, and he and Morgan were more than ready for a stiff drink. They'd been good tonight and had nursed the same drink for an exceptionally long time, not wanting to impair their performance with alcohol, but thankfully, that was over now.

"Pozzi couldn't believe that Amalia was responsible for helping us take down Biancardi." The corner of his mouth curved up as he accepted a neat scotch from his best friend. "Can you believe that? That old shit had the nerve to blabber on and on about how shocked he was and how unheard of it was. I almost regretted bringing Amalia over to talk to him."

Morgan shook his head. "You know how these old guys are, Jake. Honestly, it would drive me fucking nuts when I had to attend these functions on my own and listen to them talk for hours on end. Interminable bull shit, if you ask me. They're never going to believe that women have a place in the business, and they're never going to take us seriously until we do something big."

He grinned. "Until _you_ do something big. Because I'm out fishing from now on, man."

Jake laughed. "Yeah, I know. Don't worry. I don't plan to sit around and twiddle my thumbs."

"Hey, I, uh, I meant to tell you…" Morgan scratched the back of his head. "I bought Oceanside Towers last week. Took care of it the day we made you partner, actually."

"That's great," Jake replied. "It's a good thing for you to have in your portfolio. Diversify, diversify, diversify. Plus, you'll make good money off of it, just like your dad does off Harborview."

"I was actually going to ask you if you wanted a place there." Morgan lowered himself into his own chair and crossed his legs. "You know, a penthouse suite. The one right across the hall from mine is free, and it's furnished somewhat to your taste. Although that's not really an issue – you can always have it redone."

Jake stared at him. "You want me to move in next to you?"

"It makes sense," Morgan replied. "We're running this business together, for the sake of appearances, and my dad and Uncle Jason always lived across from each other. Plus, it feels like we've lived together for most of our lives, anyway. And, uh…"

"What?"

He shrugged guiltily. "I, uh, I just didn't know how you'd feel about being the head of the mob and living at home with your mommy. And, er, she's not happy about this, and it's not like you can sit in the dining room and order hits and rearrange shipments and stuff. I don't know, it could be like a place for you to get your work done."

"You mean, like an office?" Jake smirked.

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Yes and no. You'd have the offices at the Coffee Shop and the warehouses, sure, but you'd also have someplace less formal where you could meet with people, relax with your scotch or cigars, whatever. Someplace less…Mommy-fied. If that makes sense."

"It does."

"So what do you say? I've got the keys made for you and everything. You can move in tonight if you feel like it."

Jake considered it and finally nodded. "That sounds good. Send Kristina any paperwork you've got drawn up, and I'll move some stuff in this week."

"You still planning on staying on at the house, though?"

"For the time being, yes." He took a sip of his scotch and leaned back in his seat. "I don't want to leave my mom alone. She says that the house felt so big and empty when me and Cam were away at school. I'll stay on for the time being."

Morgan nodded. "Sounds good. The transition will make all this easier on your mom, too. She won't feel like she's losing you quite so fast. She needs that."

"Yeah." He shifted uneasily. "How're your mom and Jax doing with all of this?"

"They have made it very clear that they love and support me no matter what," Morgan smiled. "You know, the standard parental response. And I'm lucky, because they actually mean it."

"Yeah, they do."

"How's Cam with all this? I know your mom's been pretty distant for a few days, but what about him?"

"Relieved," Jake grinned, thinking of his prudent older brother. "He was so sure that I'd end up getting killed if I continued to help you in secret. Said it was killing my health, at any rate. He hopes that I'll be able to sleep easier now that it's all out in the open."

"He's still prescribing you those sleep aids, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't take them." Jake rolled his shoulders, trying to alleviate the tension there. He started suffering from insomnia as a young boy, barely into his teenage years, and managed to hide it from his mother. Cameron was the only one that knew that he slept very little and very fitfully and as soon as he 

had the proper credentials, he started prescribing him sleep aids that would put an end to it. "They make me feel nauseous and I always wake up with headaches."

"Boys."

They looked over to see Sonny and Jason enter the parlor, their expressions identical and grim. "It's getting late."

Jake smirked at his old friend and set down his glass, slowly pushing himself to his feet. "Code for, clear out of my house. We're on our way."

Morgan finished his drink and set the glass down on the table. His relationship with his father and uncle had been strained since the day he named Jake as his partner, and he didn't blame them. They didn't see it as a complete betrayal, but they knew that it was a shady deal and didn't appreciate it. That was their prerogative. Morgan, for his part, couldn't have been happier with the way things worked out.

"Before I forget…" He reached into his pocket and fished out two keys on a single chain. "Here are the keys to the place. You'll move in sometime this week?"

Jake pocketed the keys and nodded as the boys moved past Sonny and Jason, knowing better than to bother with pleasantries and goodbyes when the older men were clearly in no mood for it. "Yeah. Oceanside Towers, Penthouse 4. Coincidence?"

Morgan glanced at his uncle, who lived at the same number at Harborview. "Actually, yeah."


	29. That Shark Has Pretty Teeth

**Note – **Two new promos have been added to my Youtube channel, "humatheguma." They're called "Damaging Awkwardness" and "All I Want Is You." Exciting!

**-Mean-**

**-28-**

_Hey, that shark has_

_Pretty teeth, dear._

_And he shows 'em,_

_Pearly white._

-- "Mack the Knife," Frank Sinatra & Dean Martin

**.: The docks :.**

Jake trotted down the steps onto the wooden planks, a cup of Kelly's coffee in one hand and his cell phone in the other. "What? Shit, man, I'm not going to Connecticut for that. Tell you what, I'll send Penn. He'll deal with it on my behalf, and I'll support whatever decision he makes. Yeah. Yeah, you can tell 'em. Okay, great."

He raised his cup to his lips but lowered it when he spotted a familiar face heading toward him. "Uh, listen, I gotta go. We'll talk later. Have someone make arrangements for him to be there by tomorrow morning. Thanks."

Jake hung up and slipped his phone into his pocket. He had been careful not to drop too many names in the last part of the conversation, not wanting the man standing before him now to pick anything up. "Jackal, P.I. To what do I owe the honor?"

Damien Spinelli slipped his hands into his pockets and smirked, looking at the young man whose birth he had almost captured on video before Lucky Spencer tossed him out of the room. "Jake. Got a minute?"

"A couple," he replied. "What do you need?"

Spinelli gestured to the bench. "Can we talk for a minute? Have a seat."

"You sound like my mother," he grumbled, obliging. He knew that Spinelli and Elizabeth were something close to friends once, and his mother still spoke highly of the computer geek turned private detective. "All right, what's this about?"

"Diane," Spinelli replied, not bothering to beat around the bush. "I heard about the changes you and the Little Mister Corinthos made in the organization."

Jake rested his arm on the rest and arched a brow at him. "I make it a point not to discuss the organization out in public, where I might be easily overheard. If that's all you want to speak to me about, I'm sure it can wait until a later time and a more discreet location."

Spinelli wasn't about to be dismissed so easily. "Don't worry, it's nothing sensitive. I was just surprised that you let her out of her contract."

"It was perfectly legal," Jake was quick to reply. "Morgan handled it himself. She can't take us to court for it, if that's what she's thinking of."

"I wouldn't know what she was thinking of."

"Really," Jake drawled. "Surprising, since she obviously sent you here to argue on her behalf."

The older man awkwardly brushed his hair out of his face. "She was just…concerned. She's concerned about losing her job, of course, but she's also concerned about what this means for the rest of the workers in the employ of the Corinthos-Morgan organization."

A slow, thin smile spread across his lips. "Don't you mean Corinthos-Webber?"

Spinelli blanched, and a few seconds passed before he sputtered, "Yeah, yeah, that's what I meant. Sorry, still haven't gotten used to the name change."

Jake hid his smirk behind his cup of coffee. "So, uh, what were you saying?"

"Diane is concerned about what this means for the rest of the men that work for you."

"You can let her know that she doesn't have to be," he replied smoothly. "They're not her concern."

Spinelli's lips settled into a peeved expression. Jason's son was making this far more difficult than he would have liked, but he was Jason's kid, after all. "Look, can I be frank with you?"

"I wish you would be."

"I can't understand why one of your first moves as partner in this business would be to fire Diane." Spinelli braced a hand on his hip and stared at the young man next to him. "Do you hate her that much?"

Jake stared at him blankly. "…Hate? Spinelli, that decision had nothing to do with hate. We just didn't have a place for Diane in the organization anymore."

"But she's been with Little Mister Corinthos's family for the past twenty-five years."

"And so has hypertension," Jake replied dryly. "The fact remains, she had no place in the organization anymore. It wasn't personal, Spinelli, it was just business. And I regret that Diane doesn't seem to understand that."

He continued despite the fact that Spinelli opened his mouth to protest. "Look, I already had legal representation. Kristina Davis became my lawyer before I partnered up with Morgan. I grew up with her and I trust her completely. I had no reason to dismiss her and accept the counsel of a woman I barely know just because she represented Sonny and Jason."

It was the first time that Spinelli heard Jake refer to Morgan's father by his first name, and he frowned slightly. "It would have been standard practice."

"It would have been professional inheriting," Jake refuted. "And I don't have the patience for that shit. I didn't need a lawyer when I made partner, and neither did Morgan. He _is_ a lawyer, for Christ's sake, although people forget that easily. And we weren't about to keep anyone on the payroll when they were of no use to us. Right now, we're in a place where we need to cut dead weight. Diane Miller, brilliant attorney that she is, unfortunately fell under that category. Again, it wasn't personal, it was business."

That was only half true. Jake had been planning to fire Diane for a long time, long before he and Morgan declared their partnership. She saw the two of them grow up and would always think of them and treat them like children, which was simply not acceptable in a professional setting. Diane worked closely with Sonny and Jason and had defended them for decades, and she would always be loyal to the two of them before him and Morgan. Now it was time to find out if Spinelli felt the same way.

"There was actually something else I wanted to discuss with you."

Spinelli leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "What?"

Jake carefully maintained his composure, sure not to give anything away. "How long has it been since you and your wife opened your private offices?"

He squinted at the water, counting back. "Oh, I don't know, about twenty-two, twenty-three years. Something like that. Why?"

"I know that up until very recently, you continued your work in the capacity of technical…technological…um…" He scratched his head. "Computer geek. For Sonny and Jason, I mean."

Spinelli smiled despite himself. "Yes, I haven't retired from geekdom yet, that's correct."

Jake grinned back. "I thought not. It'll be a sad day when you do."

"What's this about?"

"I know there's been some uncertainty among the ranks, especially since news of Diane's dismissal spread," he said slowly. "And I wanted to know how you'd feel about continuing to work for the organization. You'd be working for me and Morgan on whatever technical assignments we need done, just like you did under Jason, and Sonny before him. You'd report to us and be bound by confidentiality not to discuss business matters with anyone else. Same standard arrangement as before. What do you think?"

Spinelli smirked, but the expression was far from condescending. Watching Jake talk about the business like that reminded him of the first time he held the boy. Elizabeth had been in the park with Cameron and Lulu, and she had gently placed the little baby in his arms, letting Spinelli rock him. Jake had been kidnapped later that day, and Spinelli had worked his fingers to the bone pulling up anything that might tell them where he went.

His mossy green eyes were warm as he looked back at Jake, now a full grown man. "That would be interesting. But keep in mind, I've known you since you were a kid. I've seen you in diapers; I don't know that I'd even be able to take you seriously."

Jake's eyes dimmed, and the corner of his mouth curved slightly downward. He lifted his chin, and when he spoke his voice was clipped and quiet. "I'm truly sorry you feel that way."

* * *

**.: Penthouse 4, Harborview Towers :.**

Jason carefully stretched the fingers of his left hand, wincing at the pain that shot up to his wrist. After the official party welcoming Jacob Martin Webber as co-head of the Corinthos-Webber organization, he'd gone to Jake's and gotten good and drunk. And then he put his fist through the wall.

It still fucking hurt.

Sonny impatiently rattled a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers in front of him. "Here. Just take them, Jason."

"I don't like-"

"I know you don't like pills," Sonny interrupted. "But you hurt your hand and you've got a damn handkerchief wrapped around it. Take the damn pills – our bodies aren't what they used to be, anyway."

Reluctantly, Jason took a tablet from the bottle. He stared at it in his hand before popping it and dry-swallowing, wincing afterward. He gratefully accepted the water that Sonny offered him and stared at his injured hand.

"It's all gone to hell."

Sonny carefully lowered himself into his favorite armchair. "I know."

Jason closed his eyes, his glass elevated an inch or so from his lips. "Jake was never supposed to be a part of this."

"I know."

"I thought we did everything we could," he murmured, barely hearing his best friend. "I didn't claim paternity. Elizabeth denied it under oath. We…We broke off our engagement and hardly ever spoke in public again. We didn't even meet at the safehouse all the time like we used to."

He shook his head. "But he found his way into it, anyway."

Sonny could only nod. He wasn't about to bring up the fact that Elizabeth and Jason gave up their family – that Jason gave up his flesh and blood _son_ – for nothing. Because that was the case: the one thing that governed all their decisions, their biggest fear, had come true and it meant all of their sacrifices were for naught. Jake was a mobster now, just like his old man.

"Yeah."

"And I can't even figure out how this could have been stopped," Jason admitted raggedly. Though he was a man that didn't dabble with what-ifs, his mind was spinning as he relived those painful decisions he made when Jake was a baby. "I can't figure out what I could have done differently that would have stopped this. I-I thought I was doing everything right."

Sonny sighed and leaned forward, rubbing his palms together between his knees. "You did, Jason."

His best friend looked up at him, causing Sonny to shift uneasily. "I mean, I know I didn't always tell you so. Hell, I always told you that you were being an idiot about the whole thing. But you did the right thing. As far as Jake was concerned, you always did. You took yourself out of his life so that he couldn't be connected to you, so that he couldn't be targeted. You didn't continue to connect with Cameron, you didn't lead his mother on and prolong that relationship. You took yourself out of their lives, as much as it hurt you to do that."

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, lamenting. "You did everything right. But this happened anyway. And sometimes, there's no logical explanation. For any of it."

Jason set his glass down on the table and scrubbed a hand over his face. A week had passed since all hell broke loose, but he still hadn't gotten over it. No amount of scotch, midnight rides, or even long afternoons spent in solitude had helped.

Sonny sighed when he heard his phone buzz and flipped it on speaker. "Yeah."

"_Boss." _It was Max, who still called Sonny 'Boss' all these years later. _"Did you know that there was a meeting going on?"_

Sonny frowned at the suspicious tone of his voice. "A meeting? What are you talking about?"

"_There's a meeting going on right now," _Max explained, sounding like he realized that Sonny and Jason weren't in on it. _"At the warehouse. I'm here right now. A lot of things are being said, Boss. A lot of things."_

Sonny shared a grave look with Jason. "We're on our way."

* * *

**.: Offices, Warehouse 52 :.**

"As most of you already know," Jake was saying as Sonny and Jason ran down the hall toward the packed conference room, "Diane Miller no longer represents this organization as its legal defense."

The room was so packed with upper and lower level staff and guards that Sonny and Jason had to stand out in the hall, peering in. Max, Milo, and some of the older guards stood toward the back and made room so that their former employers could see and hear what was going on. Jake stood at the head of the table, Morgan standing by his side and looking completely relaxed and at ease. Not being solely responsible for a business he couldn't have cared less about certainly agreed with him.

Something in his chest constricted as Jason watched his son head up the meeting so easily. Jake was perfectly composed and in charge, but still held his easy-going air about him. He had learned over the years that this was his son's public persona: it was important to him that others always perceived him as in control of everything and therefore, unfazed. It was still unnerving to see him in action, though.

"My personal attorney, Ms. Kristina Davis, has agreed to accept the formal position as legal defense for myself and all the workers of the Corinthos-Webber organization, effective as of right now. If any of you have legal concerns or legal matters that need to be cleared up, she will be available for you. Kay?"

Sonny watched in mute shock as his daughter primly rose from her seat and swept a gaze around the room. She was dressed in a sleek black dress with her hair half up and pinned demurely back, her bangs off her face, so as not to look obscenely young as the other men often accused Jake and Morgan of being.

"Good afternoon, everyone. As you know, I'm Kristina Davis. Some of you know my mother, Alexis Davis, the current District Attorney, and all of you know my father, Michael Corinthos, who I don't believe could make it today."

She lifted her chin a notch, looking every bit the no-nonsense attorney she needed them to believe she was. "I earned both my undergraduate and professional degree at Harvard, where I graduated _summa cum laude_ and have clerked for the Honorable Judge Constance Baker Motley of the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of New York. My offices will be located at 533 Oak Lane, in the historic district not too far from the Port Charles Courthouse, and I'll be all settled in by next week. Until then, I will be just down the hall from this room, so if you need to see me, do feel free to drop by. I look forward to representing all of you, and I thank my brother and Jake for giving me the opportunity."

She smiled politely at the boys, who smiled back, and smoothly took her seat amidst the applause, some of it half-hearted as the workers struggled to get used to the changes.

"Thank you, Kristina," Jake said, rising to his feet once more. "We're very fortunate to have you working for the organization. A final note: if any of you have pending legal issues initiated with Diane Miller, those cases will not be transferred to the new counsel. I ask that you do your part to expedite those proceedings so that both the organization and Ms. Miller may move on professionally."

Jake's gaze flicked to the door where Max and Milo were standing, and he noticed his father standing with them alongside Sonny. "Switching gears now, I direct your attention now to the corner of the room."

All heads turned, and Jason shifted awkwardly. Morgan's expression remained carefully schooled when he spotted his father standing there, obviously displeased, and a smug little smile threatened to kick up the corner of Kristina's mouth.

"Max and Milo Giambetti have served the organization loyally for about forty years," Jake continued, gesturing to the two bashful guards. "I'm sure Jason Morgan and Sonny Corinthos are indebted to them in ways that shall never even come to light. They're the top guards of the organization and they were the ones always trusted to carry out business matters of the most intimate and covert nature. Morgan and I offer them our gratitude; the success of this organization is due in part to their loyalty, capability, and trustworthiness."

This time, the applause was entirely genuine, and even Jason managed to clap. Max and Milo deserved the accolades they got, but judging by the grim looks on their faces, the other shoe had yet to drop.

"Max and Milo have opted to retire from the organization," Jake announced, and the room immediately went silent. "But not before they offer their services in training their replacements. I'd like to introduce you to Chase Beckett and Penn Bonham, the top guards for this organization. They will be heading up routine operations like warehouse shifts, shipment supervision, and surveillance. All concerns regarding those matters are to be addressed to them. They will also be meeting with the rest of you after this meeting adjourns in the room down the hall to discuss more specific job details. Chase and Penn."

More applause covered up the sound of Sonny swearing. Jason looked at Jake, who met his gaze for a few seconds before consulting his notes again, and he knew. Max and Milo had not voluntarily retired. The two most loyal guards in the organization had been forced out, most likely offered a great severance package. While Jake and Morgan had been extremely generous with Diane's package and were sure to have been so with Max and Milo's as well, Jason still didn't like it. He couldn't imagine the organization without the two brothers.

Sonny Corinthos was having a tough time of it, too, and unlike Jason, didn't feel the need to wait to discuss this matter privately. "Hold on – just hold on. Isn't anyone going to say anything?"

Morgan and Jake looked over at him, entirely unconcerned. "Is there a problem, Sonny?"

The mobster bristled at the sound of his first name being used so familiarly by his best friend's son. "Yeah, there's a problem. Max and Milo were fired, weren't they?"

"They were given a very nice severance package and let out of their contract in a way that did not violate the initial terms," Morgan replied plainly. "That's all."

"And we don't discuss specific employment matters at general meetings like this one," Jake added sternly. "If you want to do so, you can address those issues to our new Human Resources specialist."

Sonny bristled at the additional change the organization. "What the hell do you think gives you the right-"

"The fact that I run this organization with your son," Jake interrupted, his eyes hard and his words clipped. "All final decisions about the business are ours to make. If you have any other concerns or grievances, I have to ask that you agree to make an appointment to discuss them, or leave this meeting immediately."

The guards known as Chase and Penn exchanged looks, and when Penn took a single step forward toward Sonny's corner of the room, the mobster reluctantly quieted down. He seethed silently next to Jason, who wanted to see just how far the boys took these organizational changes.

"One of our most important personnel changes…" Jake tapped the file on the table and turned to Morgan, and the boys shared a little grin. "Yeah. Many of you are familiar with Damien Spinelli. Mister Jackal, P.I., or whatever he calls himself."

Polite laughter tittered throughout the room, as many guards were on pretty good terms with the computer hacker that had joined the organization when he was just nineteen years old.

"Due to the stress and responsibility that comes with running his private detective agencies, Mister Spinelli can no longer justify working two full-time jobs simultaneously."

A murmur passed through the crowd at the other entrance in the back, and Jason could barely make out someone pushing through the crowd, passing unseen behind the group of mostly tall, burly men.

"Though he leaves of his own accord with no hard feelings, Morgan and I felt justified in setting him up with a package of his own to mark his formal resignation from the organization. Spinelli provided an invaluable service to Jason Morgan, the only man he ever worked under-"

Some of the older guards, the ones who had been around for the first regime change, remembered how poorly Sonny treated Spinelli and smirked at Jake's neat little dig at the man.

"-and few of us would be here today without his dedication and loyalty." That much was the God's honest truth. Jake knew how hard Spinelli worked to find him after an unstable woman kidnapped him from the park, and though it had been unfortunate to lose him, it was truly for the best. Spinelli had admitted point blank that he'd never take Jake and Morgan seriously, but more importantly than that, Spinelli was loyal to none above Jason.

As well he should be, Jake thought, because his father was the one that had taken Spinelli under his wing when no one else had taken the young man seriously. It made sense that Spinelli would always be devoted to him. That devotion, however, was dangerous to the business. Everything that he and Morgan did with Spinelli's help would be reported immediately to Jason, and that was just a sloppy way to conduct business. So Jake and Morgan terminated his contract, wired a good amount of money into his account to help with his private agency if he ever needed it, and made a mental note to pass his name along if anyone they dealt with needed a quirky detective that came with a meddling wife in tow.

"That being said, we'd like to take this time to introduce the person that will take Spinelli's place and handle all of the, er, technical…technological…"

Jake scratched his head and turned to Morgan. "Did we ever decide what the official name for Jackal P.I.'s talents was?"

Morgan thought about it. "Cybertechnics? Is that a word?"

"Computer hackery?" Chase suggested.

"Fun with zeroes and ones?" another guard guessed, getting a laugh from the crowd.

Jake shrugged. "Well, whatever the official name for whatever it was that Spinelli did, we've got someone else to do it now. Everyone, I'd like to introduce Molly Lansing."

Sonny's jaw dropped, and Jason was rather stunned himself. Ric Lansing's little girl, dressed in a black pencil skirt and a silky sapphire top, smiled brightly at the crowd gathered.

"Afternoon, guys. I'm Molly Lansing, some people just call me Moll." She lightly clapped her hands together, one on top of another, and rubbed her palms. "Uh, let's see, I'm Kristina's little sister, and most of you know my parents, District Attorney Alexis Davis and former District Attorney Ric Lansing. Yeah, we never got away with anything at our house."

She smiled again when the men laughed. "I graduated from M.I.T. and I've known Jake and Morgan since I was a kid. My job is simple, and no, I have no idea what we're calling it. Computer hackery works just fine for me. Basically, I'll be following these boys around with my trusty laptop and other computer accessories. Think of me as a computer-savvy personal assistant. I'll occasionally use words like 'LOL' and 'XOXO' in dialogue, but I figure that talking weird is a job requirement for this position. I tried drinking an orange soda on the way over here, but I couldn't get into it. Had to knock my hourly rate down a bit because of that."

Her easy-going, bubbly way was entirely foreign to most of the men in the room, and some were confused and others were charmed. It had been the same polarized situation as that of her famed predecessor: people either loved him or were profoundly irritated by him.

"That's all from me," Molly said with a little shrug of her shoulders. "If anyone needs me, I just moved into Penthouse 6 at Oceanside Towers, right next to my cousin and across the hall from Jake. Plus, I'll be following them around frequently, so if you need to find me, just look for them. Great. I'm really looking forward to working with everyone – this is going to be a blast."

As the rest of the men clapped politely, Sonny and Jason turned and stared at each other, stunned at what had been set in motion in the course of a twenty-minute meeting.

* * *

_Later…_

The gathering had been dismissed, Sonny and Jason had gone home without saying another word to the boys, and Chase and Penn would be holding their own meeting with the guards a few doors down the hall in about half an hour. The only ones left in the conference room at Warehouse 52 were Jake, Morgan, Kristina, Molly, and the two new top guards of the organization.

They sat there in the leather chairs around the table, and spoke informally now that they could.

"It works out perfectly," Morgan was saying. "Shit, man, this way, I don't even have to stay on as legal counsel for the business if I don't feel like it. Kay's here, and this way, you have a piece of the business that Dad was probably never going to give you anyway."

A light glimmered in her dark eyes, making her look almost wicked. "I do, don't I? To think, he only ever hired female attorneys, those he trusted with his freedom, his money, his name, everything. And now it's all mine. I have to say, I don't mind that at all. If anything, it serves Daddy right."

"And it's just a fringe benefit that Mom's having a coronary because of us, right?" Her sister elbowed her and grinned. "Man, I thought she would _never _stop screaming last night when we were moving the last of our stuff out of the lake house."

Kristina grinned back. "She was hysterical. It was kind of funny, until she started hyperventilating."

"She still does that?" Morgan asked.

"Oh, yeah," his half-sister nodded. "We had to get her a paper bag and sit with her for a while before she was calm again."

"And then she started yelling again," Molly chirped with a smirk. "And so we finished packing and got the heck out of dodge. Thanks for giving us a place to stay, Morgan. I already love it at Oceanside."

"Me, too," Kristina agreed. "The view is just beautiful, and the décor is so fresh and soothing at the same time. Harborview always used to make me feel kind of claustrophobic on, like, the three occasions that I went there to see Daddy, but I really feel at home at Oceanside."

"I'm glad," Morgan replied sincerely. "I only lived there for a few months before I knew I had to buy it. It's safe, it's exclusive, we've already got it outfitted with security cameras and everything, and the penthouses fetch good prices on the market. Plus, this is a way for me to keep the rest of you guys close on hand."

"You were the one that picked out Kristina's offices, too, weren't you?" Chase wanted to know. "The place on Oak?"

Morgan nodded. "Yup, in the historic district. Those homes are technically part of historic Port Charles, and some of them date back to revolutionary times. But a lot of the ones that were added to the roster later on, say, the late twentieth century, had already undergone renovations before they were foreclosed so they weren't _as_ historic anymore. The city's been trying to bulldoze them down and build another damn park if they don't sell. This way, we get a nice, classy place that's different from all the other concrete sarcophagi offices in town, the banks are more than happy to sell at a good price to the buyer, and we stick it to Floyd. Win-win, all around."

"You're buying a house there, soon, aren't you?" Jake asked his best friend. "I remember you saying something about it."

He nodded. "I've got my eye on one of the historic homes, yeah. It's got turrets and an enormous backyard, even bigger than the Graystone. It's one of the first to go in favor of Floyd's idiotic dog park, so I'll have to act fast if I want it."

"If you want me to get in the system and mess around the schedules for the land use hearings to buy you some more time, I'd be happy to – Oh. Bugger. Hold on a sec." Molly fished her phone out of her black clutch and smirked when she glanced at the LCD. Kristina looked over her shoulder and let out a little laugh.

"Who is it?"

She held up her phone so the boys could see. "How much you wanna bet that your Daddy Dearest called mine as soon as he was done throwing a hissy fit?"

She flicked it open and rose from her seat, intending to leave the room. "Hi, Daddy. I'm good. She's good, too. Uh-huh. Really? I have no idea, what did Uncle Sonny have to say?"

Kristina stifled a laugh as she watched her sister leave the room. If any one woman had ever had Richard Lansing wrapped around her finger, it was Molly. Though she adored him to bits, Molly knew how to play her old man like a fiddle when the chips were down. What started out as an angry phone call from her father, demanding to know how she could have joined the mob, would end with him wishing her every success and the very best of luck.

Jake cleared his throat and returned to business, this time addressing his top guards. "Chase. Penn. You guys have been watching Max and Milo since you joined this organization under Morgan."

The men nodded. Once he took over, Morgan Corinthos had specifically assigned them to shadow the senior guards and discreetly instructed them to learn as much as they could, because there was a promotion in their immediate future if they proved they could handle it.

"They still have a few projects that they're overseeing with the organization," Jake continued, "and they're still on contract for one more month. In that time, they'll be hanging out around here a _lot_, most likely picking up information on the business to feed Sonny and Jason. Continue to learn from them, but beware of anything that sounds out of character or strange. They might be purposely misleading you. Also, make sure everyone knows _not_ to give them any information on sensitive matters, got it?"

The men nodded again. "You got it, Boss."

"Good, good." He tapped his nails on the file that lay flat on the table. "It'll be hard for them to deal with that, given how closely they worked with Jason and Sonny on business matters, but they'll be gone in a month, anyway. This is the way it has to be. They're loyal to Sonny and Jason first and foremost – as they should be – and that means that they wouldn't mind standing up to me and Morgan and going against our orders."

"So they're out," Penn finished with a note of finality. "What kind of package did you give them?"

"They each have a new house in Cabo along with a very fat retirement fund," Morgan smiled. "That should take away some of the sting."

"Can I ask something?" Chase looked hesitantly around the group. "Look, I don't mean to start shit, and you should know right now that I have absolutely nothing against Molly or against you, Kristina, but I know the gossip around town about your parents…"

He shrugged awkwardly. "It's no big secret that Sonny and Jason hate Ric, and that Ric went through bitter divorces with both of your mothers. So why hire Molly to be your eyes and ears? And isn't she still the technical supervisor at General Hospital?"

Jake didn't take any offense to the question, and neither did Kristina. "Yeah, she is. She made the arrangements to take over that job when I made partner and she submitted her two weeks' notice at her job in Manhattan. We want her to keep the job at the hospital – since it's something that she can do remotely – as her cover. It's clean and safe, and it puts her around people like my mom, the Drakes, Mrs. 

Zacchara, that sort of thing. She'll be a familiar face there with an access to every part of the hospital, and that'll be valuable later on."

He tented his fingers and continued. "Aside from that, her father is a respected lawyer in Manhattan. He works for one of the most prestigious firms in the country, and Molly has a good relationship with him. She's one of my oldest friends, too. I've been around her for longer than I can remember. Plus…"

The corner of his mouth twitched in a cheeky little smile. "She's been in love with my brother Cameron since she was twelve years old. Aside from the fact that she's trustworthy by nature, she'd never do anything that would hurt our family. That kind of loyalty goes a long, long way."

* * *

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

Elizabeth looked over toward the windows when she heard a car on the street. It sounded a lot like it had pulled into her driveway. Maybe it was Cameron, realizing that he'd forgotten something. Her oldest son had been by a little while ago to check on the sink in her bathroom. Normally, it was Jake who took care of the handiwork like that, but her baby was busy with 'the business.' She absolutely loathed that phrase and they took care not to speak of it when Jake came home at night. Some nights, he didn't even come home, and she knew that he was still working and would most likely just crash at the fancy penthouse Morgan had given him.

But the car that had pulled into their driveway sounded a little more…rumbly than her son's car. Cameron now drove a sleek English racing green Jaguar, a gift from his little brother who said it was the perfect car for a young doctor vying for a promotion to department head. So the little old Camry that the boys had shared during their younger years had been donated and presumably written off as a deduction in her name, while both boys moved on to better, faster cars.

Jake had gotten himself some sleek, sporty little car with an Italian-sounding name that she couldn't even pronounce. All Elizabeth knew was that it was very similar to a model that Johnny Zacchara owned, and that if the car was a person, Jake would buy it a ring and get down on bended knee.

She still had the trusty Honda that had served her so well over the years, but only because she had refused to part with it. And besides, she didn't want her son buying her extravagant gifts. Jake understood this and never pushed it. The only gift he'd given her since his professional situation changed was an envelope full of papers that sat in her desk upstairs. Her youngest son had paid off the house in full not long after being made a partner in the business and had presented her with the deed, no questions asked. 234 Cherry Blossom Lane was now all hers, and no one could ever take it from her.

Elizabeth was fairly certain she heard footsteps coming up her cobbled walkway – Jake knew how much she loved that thing and had recently had it torn up and put down again when the bricks became faded and chipped – and slowly approached the door.

She heard a hesitant knock and reached for the knob, fairly yanking it open to find her ex-fiancé standing on the stoop. The setting sun created a golden halo around his dark blonde hair, but cast his features in darkness. Elizabeth let out a little gasp and took a step back, stunned to see him before her.

Jason's eyes were haunted, and his expression was haggard and drawn. Even though he towered above her at 6'2", he still looked weak and withdrawn, standing as he was in her lit doorway.

"I…" He licked his lips, his voice gravelly and rough. "I just didn't know where else to go."

There was something so heartbreaking about the look in his eyes, and Elizabeth didn't need to ask to know that this was about their son. She pulled her lower lip into her mouth and opened the door a little more, keeping herself from reaching out to pull him toward her. "…Come on in."


	30. Doctor Feel Good

**Note – **I know convention dictates that all material being read needs to be italicized, but it would have been a lot of italicizing and that's hard on the eyes. So whatever, I used normal formatting. This is kind of a filler, though certain insights are plot points for later (my official slogan), as I transition to the next phase of the story. And don't worry, Liason's storytime is about to pick up significantly.

I've made considerable updates to the "Cheat Codes" thread in the Mean forum at my site. Just in case anyone wants to take a look, maybe have a few questions answered, whatever.

**-Mean-**

**-29-**

_He's the one they call _

_Doctor Feel Good;_

_He's the one that makes you feel_

_All right._

-- "Doctor Feel Good," Motley Crue

**.: Main restaurant, the Port Charles Hotel & Grille :.**

"He looks different," Milo murmured as Jake walked into the Grille with a mini-entourage consisting of his guards and two men they didn't recognize. He smoothed a hand over his lapels as one of the staff members took his coat and scanned the room, not seeing them just yet. "Good."

Jake did look good. His son always possessed an athletic build, and Jason saw that even the black suit he wore for a dinner out didn't hide that. His pale blue shirt was pressed but left unbuttoned on the top, and Jake had forgone the tie in favor of a more casual look. Jason had no way of knowing that it was more because his boy was hopeless when it came to making a proper knot and less for the sake of a fashion statement.

He didn't wear his hair shaggy anymore. Instead, he'd trimmed it and combed it neatly back, and the alteration made him look older. His eyes and smile were bright (perhaps even a little smug) as he shook Mayor Floyd's hand as the man left the restaurant with his wife, and then turned and flashed a smile at an associate that called out to him.

Max frowned. "How does he know that guy?"

Milo rolled his eyes and cut another piece of his sirloin steak. "You should know by now – never be surprised at who that little shit knows."

They didn't harbor truly malicious feelings toward Jake, despite not knowing that he was their boss's son. 'Little shit' was just a mostly-playful nickname they'd given him.

"I don't know how he did it so fast, but he's ingratiated himself with anyone who's anyone around these parts," he continued, jabbing at his entrée. "Obviously, he took Mister C's Rolodex from Morgan and went nuts."

Sonny smirked at that. "Probably."

Jason had yet to tear his gaze away from his boy. This was the first night he'd gone out in a very long time, and it figured that Jake would show up at the same place he was. That was how his life seemed to work. The last time he'd left his penthouse, ironically, it had been the same. He went to Elizabeth's after that first meeting at the warehouse and for the first time, told her everything about what happened. She found out about all the organizational changes that Jake implemented, she found out about how the girls were involved in his work, she even found out that he blackmailed Judge Reinhold, who had presided over Morgan's trial.

And since he was on such a roll, Jason found that he couldn't stop himself. He unloaded everything, including his fears that he had actually seen this happening and growing over time but hadn't realized it and thus hadn't been able to stop it. Elizabeth quietly reassured him that she didn't blame him, because she had been the same way. She wore blinders when it came to some of her son's less positive qualities, and said it was apparent that Jason did as well.

After all, the two of them had sacrificed so much so that Jake could be away from the mob life. They wanted him safe and happy and good, and so whenever something happened that seemed to undermine that, they were both eager to write it off as something else – a bad mood, teenage hormones, a misunderstanding, anything – because if they didn't and if they actually confronted it for what it might have been, it meant that their plan hadn't worked as well as they hoped, and that just hadn't been an acceptable view at the time.

They paid for it now, with their son firmly ensconced in the underground world of the New York mafia.

Jason had left 234 Cherry Blossom Lane only when Elizabeth got a call from her son, telling her that he was getting dinner for the two of them. He kissed her goodbye, at first unsure that she would even accept the gesture, and then left. By the time his son got home, Jason was already back at Harborview Towers where he stayed for quite a few days before Sonny insisted, along with Max and Milo, that they go out.

"He's looking at his watch," he murmured, still watching his boy. "Probably meeting someone."

"Not Morgan," Sonny snorted. "Jake's been cutting him out of the business. He's been doing things on his own, not even bothering to ask Morgan's opinion half the time. That's no way to run a partnership or a successful business."

Max and Milo studiously cut their steaks, and Jason didn't even care enough about bygones to reply to that.

Jake spotted them on his way and nodded and the four men returned the greeting, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Jason half-hoped his son would come over for an actual verbal exchange, but one of his guards tapped his shoulder and gestured toward the door.

Morgan Corinthos, dressed impeccably all in black, was standing in the entrance way with his own guard in tow. He spotted his best friend and smiled, making his way the short distance over.

"Guess you were wrong, Boss," Max shrugged. "There's Morgan. Maybe they're meeting about business?"

Sonny scowled as the boys shook hands and exchanged greetings. "They should know better than to discuss business at a restaurant like the Grille. It's fine if they do it at the No Name, that's ours, anyway, but the Grille? That's bad form."

Jason was only half-listening. "I don't think it's business-related."

Milo frowned at him. "Why would you say that?"

He tipped his chin toward the door. "Because there's Cam."

"And Mal Drake," Sonny murmured, turning so he could see better. Sure enough, Cameron and Mal were both dressed in suits and standing in the entrance way, looking a little unsure of themselves. Morgan caught their eye and waved them over and the two doctors exchanged grim looks and walked over.

Jason watched Jake shake his brother's hand first and then Mal's, and saw Morgan do the same. "Something's going on."

"Maybe it's just a friendly dinner?" Max guessed. "I mean, they're all pretty tight. Maybe they're just getting together to catch up or something."

"Cameron looks agitated," Jason murmured in disagreement. "Like something's bothering him. So does Mal. Morgan and Jake look fine, like they don't know. And those two other guys – I don't even know who they are."

"They're still standing around," Sonny added, watching as the maître'd moved forward with spread arms and a wide smile to welcome the young men to the restaurant. Each boy had a reputation in this town: Jake and Morgan were known to be the wealthy, high-roller types. Cameron and Mal were seen as respected, prestigious members of their community that sought to give back, mostly due to their professions. Seeing the group together at the Grille must have made the cash registers go off in the maître'd's head, aside from the fact that it was always good for the restaurant to entertain such types.

"What's going on?" he wondered, turning back to his guards and his best friend. "I feel like we're missing something here."

"We're always missing something," Milo grumbled. "Mostly because those little shits keep everything so close to the vest."

"There," Max interrupted, jerking his chin toward the door. "There's something we're missing."

They looked over and saw Spencer Cassidine, dressed in royal black evening kit, standing in the grand entranceway. The maître'd practically fainted and rushed over immediately, inviting the young prince to join his friends.

"Jake, Morgan, Cam, Mal, and Spencer," Jason recited. "Plus guards and two guys we don't know. If it were just Jake, Morgan, and Spencer, I'd say it was business."

This confused Sonny. "Even Spencer?"

If either guard was surprised that the mobster wasn't aware of what his nephew was up to, he didn't show it. "Yeah, Mister C. The Dark Prince has been getting darker. We're not completely sure, what with being phased out of the business-"

He shared a look with his older brother. "-but rumor has it that Spencer has been in on some of the organization's operations. I don't think Nikolas knew in the beginning and when he found out he blew a gasket. But what can you do? Spencer's all grown up, he's married and starting his own family, and he's in control of the Cassidine empire and fortune. He can do what he wants. And he is – and making a pretty penny off it, too."

"I want to know what they're meeting about," Sonny growled. Some twenty years after giving up the business, he still didn't react well to being out of the loop. "And what the hell Mal and Cameron are doing here."

"Or…" Milo's brows shot up. "…them."

Kristina Davis and Molly Lansing stood in the doorway, chatting and giggling about something before they were noticed. Cameron and Spencer walked over, and Jason watched Molly smile and blush at something he said. He took her arm and Spencer placed a hand on his cousin's back, and the two men led the young women over to the group. Jake shook hands with his attorney and gestured to the private banquet room, and the group headed off.

"What the hell is he thinking, involving the girls in this…" Sonny fumbled for words. "Whatever this is!"

They passed them, and Jake only met Jason's gaze for a split second before he noticed Edward Quartermaine sitting two tables away. The corner of his mouth kicked up and he raised his hand, greeting the old man. Edward looked up from his lentil soup and nodded, giving the group no more than a passing glance.

Sonny frowned sourly as the kids disappeared into the private room and tented his fingers. "I gotta know what they're meeting about."

* * *

**.: Nurse's Hub, General Hospital :.**

"Local Doctors Uncover Counterfeit Drug Ring: Mafia and Monarch Traffic Legal Drugs."

Patrick chuckled at the headline as his wife and Elizabeth tried to read over his shoulder. "Imagine that. It might be the first time in Port Charles history that the mob chose legal drugs to traffic instead of illegal ones."

It was early in the morning and Cameron and Mal, the local doctors in question, hadn't made it in to work yet. Instead, their parents and Nadine stood clustered together at the hub, reading the special edition of the morning paper.

"Well, go on, go on," Elizabeth urged. "Keep reading."

"After receiving many troubling calls from his patients, psychiatrist Doctor Malcolm Drake-"

They looked up when the elevator doors slid open and found Jason Morgan staring at them across the hub. Patrick and Robin, who knew of Jason's connection to Elizabeth, waved him over. Nadine, who also knew but couldn't let anyone know she knew, made room for him.

"What's going on?"

"Have you read the paper?" Patrick asked. "Do you know anything about this already?"

Jason shook his head. "I heard that the CIA was moving through town and securing the hospital, and I came because I was worried about-" He stopped himself before he said Elizabeth's name. "Just worried about what it meant. What happened?"

"The boys uncovered a counterfeit drug ring," Elizabeth said excitedly. "Go on, Patrick."

"After receiving many troubling calls from his patients, psychiatrist Doctor Malcolm Drake began to wonder about the medication he was prescribing to those that visited him. Over lunch at the hospital cafeteria with colleague Dr. Cameron Webber, an Immunologist and childhood friend of his, he discovered that Dr. Webber had the same concerns. The men consulted another old friend and did some research and careful tracking, and discovered a wide-spread counterfeit drug ring at work within the halls of Port Charles's own General Hospital, as well as many other area hospitals."

Jason's eyes widened. Next to him, Elizabeth was nibbling on her lip as she read along.

"The doctors took their findings to Webber's younger brother, Jacob Martin Webber, an alleged mafia head in the area, as well as Prince Spencer Cassidine of Cassidine Industries. Webber and Cassidine moved quickly to investigate the situation. Though details of the process remain unclear, as the representatives for both Jacob Webber and Spencer Cassidine have declined to comment on their involvement, inside sources have provided various media outlets with certain details."

Jason had to smirk at that. It was smart of Jake to keep his head down and tell his representatives to do the same. But knowing his son, he'd probably been the one to order the 'inside sources' to release those certain details so that the story was out there.

"While working to further uncover the culprits responsible for the trafficking of ineffective placebos instead of actual medication, it is rumored that Webber contacted his associates in Canada and arranged for the purchase of cheap medication to fill the demand assumed to be met by the placebos. Prince Cassidine, whose family controls shipping routes from our neighbor to the north to the upstate New York area, arranged for Webber's shipments of prescription medication to be secretly packaged with the goods on his shipping routes. Once in possession of the effective drugs, Webber and Cassidine turned the purchases over to the Drs. Webber and Drake. As of the time this article is written, special CIA task forces are clearing the phony prescription medication out of the hospital and taking it in as evidence while Webber and Cassidine continue to supply the hospitals in the area with real drugs until the distributors can catch up with the demand."

"Wow," Robin murmured. Behind her, several of the CIA operatives mentioned in the article were doing a final sweep of the fifth floor. "Can you believe it? Can you believe what our boys did?!"

"It is unknown whether or not Jacob Webber and Prince Spencer Cassidine will be prosecuted for the illegal transfer of prescription medication from Canada to the United States, but sources are quick to report that each party's team of attorneys is already working to keep the case from going to trial."

Elizabeth shook her head, still in a suspended state of disbelief. "This is all so unreal…"

"The fact that no money exchanged hands in the acquisition between the hospitals and the team of Webber and Cassidine can only work in their favor, legal experts say."

"They took a loss," Nadine said. She knew this had been in the works thanks to her husband, who caught word of the drug ring, and had then picked her daughter's brain for the details. "They bought the drugs and donated them to the hospitals, basically."

"Though it remains unclear how this matter will be resolved, inside sources report that Morgan Corinthos, Jacob Webber's alleged partner in crime and Prince Cassidine's cousin, is putting together a case against the guilty parties and will be part of the prosecution team, along with two of his colleagues from the New York Lawyers For Justice. The case is expected to go to trial as soon as more details surface. Mayor Garrett Floyd will be hosting a ceremony at General Hospital this evening to honor the two young doctors and their associates. Wow."

Patrick folded up the paper and set it down on the counter. "Now that's something, isn't it?"

"I can't believe this went on without us even knowing." Robin blew her bangs out of her face and peered up at Jason. "Did you know anything about it?"

"Johnny mentioned something about counterfeit drugs when we met last night," Jason said. It still felt strange sometimes to discuss business details – however innocuous – with people that had nothing to do with it, but Nadine was married to the man and the others standing with him had known him for years, thanks to the children. "And then this morning I got a call about the CIA moving through town. I had no idea that all of this went down, though."

Robin averted her gaze and looked at the front page article again, thinking to herself that she never would have thought she'd see the day that Jason Morgan would be so out of the loop about drugs being moved through their town. The fact that it was his secret son who was partly responsible for tracking down the culprits only added to the irony.

"Look, they quoted Mal," she said excitedly, reading aloud. "Doctor Malcolm Drake reports that his suspicions were first aroused when he received two phone calls from his patients in the same hour. One patient suffered from manic depression and, after suffering a minor breakdown during an argument with his wife, was worried that the lithium dosage prescribed wasn't high enough. 'These placebos are particularly dangerous when they advance out of the realm of painkillers and into psychiatric medicine. The drugs I prescribe oftentimes help my patients walk the fine line between a well-adjusted life and crippling depression, self-loathing, and even schizophrenia. One would be remiss to attempt to characterize the events uncovered as a typical drug scam intended to reap profit; this malicious crime wreaked untold havoc on the health, minds, and lives of untold patients.'"

"And they've got Cam, too," Nadine beamed, taking the paper from her and reading aloud. "When asked, Doctor Cameron Webber was quick to reply, 'As prescribing physicians, we now have our work cut out for us in attempting to undo the damage that these placebos caused. For a lot of our patients, consistent medication was required to treat their illnesses and this gap caused considerable disease progression. The real challenge now is meting out the proper dosage to deal with this, as well as to develop new forms of treatments in the cases of those diseases, usually ones requiring antibiotics, that have grown resistant to the medication being used. It's truly unfortunate that so many patients have to suffer due to such a heartless crime.' Well said. Aw, our little heroes."

Elizabeth leaned into him just slightly, and Jason had to remind himself not to slip his arm around her waist when he felt himself inclined to do just that. "And they did it all on their own. Can you believe that? They didn't even contact the authorities. I'd think that Cam would have at least let Lucky know what was going on…"

Nadine was already shaking her head. "According to Amalia, they figured that going to the cops would just put the word out there about the fake drugs and cause chaos. Cam and Mal figured that it would be best to meet with Jake, Spencer, their lawyers, and a few other people so that they could at least secure the real drugs and move them in and get them to the patients at around the same time that the story broke. Once the drugs were in town, I think Molly alerted the CIA and worked with their agents and other affected hospitals to make sure they had all their bases covered."

Patrick was scratching his head. "Should we be worried that Spencer was in the thick of this? Or surprised, even?"

Nadine smiled. "It's up to you. Although from what Nikolas tells me, Spencer's been, uh…" She leaned in, gesturing for them to do so as well. "This stays between us – you can't repeat it. But apparently, Spencer's been into some questionable deals of his own. He doesn't share these ventures with him, but Nikolas overheard a meeting between him and one of his top guys. Then he overheard a conversation between Spencer and Laurenna and figured that Spencer was trying to move something illegally from Canada to the States. He put his men on it and tried to stop the shipment without knowing what it was, but thankfully, that didn't work. Amalia says that Jake re-routed at the last second."

"And good for him that he did," Robin piped up. "Because if this story broke and we didn't have those real drugs on hand, all hell would have broken loose."

"Was…" Jason tugged on his ear, feeling a little awkward. "Was your drug cocktail affected by these, er, fake drugs?"

She shook her head. "Most likely not. I have a supply stocked up at home, and based on the timeline, I restocked before the area was fully flooded with placebos. And, uh…" She glanced up at her husband. "Patrick and I just got tested this morning, anyway. Just in case. We'll know for sure in a little while."

Further discussion of the matter was halted when the elevator doors dinged loudly, and Elizabeth looked over to see her son step out onto the fifth floor with Molly at his side. Cameron normally wore his jeans, along with an old band t-shirt under a dressy shirt, and his white coat to work but today, her son was wearing slacks, a dress shirt, a sweater vest, and even a tie. Molly, who rarely reported to the 

actual hospital campus for work since so much of it could be done remotely, was not only present but wearing a black skirt paired with a pretty blazer and looking very professional, at that.

"And he said to have some kind of statement ready," Cameron was telling her as she tore open the top of a bag of peanut M&Ms. "So me and Mal coordinated last night, made sure we weren't saying the same stuff."

"Do Jake and Spence have to have a statement prepared, too?" she wanted to know.

He shook his head as they rounded the hub. "I think Floyd wanted them to say something, but they're just going to watch from the crowd, not be part of the ceremony. They say it was me and Mal that did it all, anyway. Plus, the second they get behind the podium is the second they have to field questions from the press, and they're not about to do that."

"Indeed. Hey, here are two red ones." She dropped the candy into his palm, and Cameron popped them into his mouth. "Hi, everybody."

"Hi, Mom, everyone," Cameron smiled as they passed the group. "Morning."

"Hi, honey."

"Morning, kids," Nadine smiled. "Good work, both of you."

Cameron smiled bashfully while Molly grinned. "I know, right? Check out Doctor Feel Good over here."

"I was talking about you, too, Missy," Nadine teased. "Don't think I don't know who was responsible for digging up the dirt on the bastards responsible for this."

"Our very own Spinelli," Cameron grinned, slipping his arm around her waist, and it was Molly's turn to blush. "We'll see you guys later."

"We have to get to the lab," Patrick said when the kids turned the corner. "We'll meet up with you guys before the ceremony, walk down together. Sound good?"

Nadine and Elizabeth nodded, and the blonde nurse picked up two files she left on the counter. "I have to get to Pedes. Later."

Elizabeth smiled at them as they split, then turned and looked up at Jason. "So…"

He shuffled his feet and looked at the clock. "When does your shift start?"

"Oh…" She blinked and thought about it. "Not for another half hour. I always get here early, though. You know, set an example for the rest of my team…"

Jason nodded slowly and then awkwardly gestured to the elevators. "You, uh, you wanna get some coffee real quick?"

The corner of her mouth curved up just slightly, and Elizabeth unconsciously began to wring her hands. "Yeah. Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

Jason stepped back, scuffing the toes of one shoe against the other one, and let her pass. Elizabeth looked at him and hesitated, thinking he would lead the way, and they stood in awkward stillness for a few seconds before she hurried toward the elevator and he loped along behind her. She jabbed the button to go down once, twice, then turned and flashed him a small smile.

Jason returned it, and they walked into the elevator car side by side when the doors finally slid open.


	31. Only Get There

**Note – **For me, Jake's failures in his personal life (we'll see even more coming up soon enough) become so much more compelling when they're not countered by failures in his professional life. So he'll be doing just fine as far as the business goes. I figure that's in part because he has good instincts and also because he learned from men like Jax and Johnny growing up. Also, I really do not need professional failures with the mob and coffee business distracting us and him from the failures in his personal life. That's a real easy way to stretch a character too thin and send him into a downward spiral, in my opinion. :-P Then I'd have to deal with even more emotional garbage, and I'd be stretching MYSELF too thin. LOL! Also, read Mel's Tangle. :-P It's Mean's sister-fic. Heh.

**-Mean-**

**-30-**

_It's gonna take us_

_Years and years_

_To only get there. _

_You know that_

_Friends will always help you out_

_But they can't always save you._

_The sound is the word,_

_The best you've ever heard._

-- "The Sound Is The Word," The Shout Out Louds

**.: Conference Room, Warehouse 52 :.**

"Moll printed out the figures – you should all have a copy – and it's pretty much right in front of us." Jake tapped his file against his palm and looked around the room. He stood at the head of the conference table with Chase, Penn, and Sonny on his left and Molly and Jason on his right. Kristina sat at the other end of the table, half-listening, and half working on her own assignments. She occasionally sat in on meetings just so she knew what Jake was up to and he didn't have to bring her up to speed when he inevitably got in trouble with the law later on.

"We have to make changes, and we have to get started right away."

Sonny frowned sourly as Jake turned to the chart on the projection screen. "I see that my son's not here."

Jake didn't even bother to look at him. "I'm glad your vision hasn't failed you yet, Sonny."

He smacked his palm on the table. "What the hell's the matter with you? Why don't you show me some fucking respect-"

"Maybe for the same reason you don't show me any respect," Jake fired back. "Turn to your left. You see that? That's the door. This time, I'm giving you a choice as to whether you want to use it or not. One more snide remark, one more attempt to undermine me, you won't have that choice. Clear?"

Sonny was still scowling. "And what about Jason?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Jason doesn't interrupt me to throw a fucking fit, he doesn't attempt to undermine me, and he realizes that he has very little control over the business anymore and that I'm doing him a favor by letting him sit in on these meetings at all. Why don't you take a lesson from him?"

He shot Sonny one last stern look before turning back to the chart up on the projector. "From this, it's easy to see what the problem is. Not only are we losing money in this sector, but our businesses are grossly out of balance."

Chase was nodding at this. "We've seen it up close and personal, Boss, during shipments."

"The solution is simple." Jake turned back to the rest of the group. "We double it all up."

Jason's eyes narrowed. "Double _what_ up?"

"Our shipments, our product," he replied, with a note of something akin to excitement in his voice. "We're going to expand that base and kick the profits into the coffee business, which will then enter a new stage of expansion. I drew up the plan last night – Moll, show us the charts, yeah?"

She clicked away on her laptop and soon the charts were displayed on the projection screen behind him. Jake picked up his laser pointer and gestured to the parts that were of particular interest. "These are our revenues from the business over the past year, these since I was made partner, and these over the past three months. These are our revenues from the coffee business over the past year, since I made partner, and for the past three months. Take a look."

He moved away from the head of the table so everyone had a clear view. "The only thing that makes sense right now is expansion. With the coffee revenues as they stand, that will give us a much needed boost. We kick up the shipments and the products, and then not only do we get to launder it through the coffee business, but we get to expand that side of the business using those earnings. We're doubling everything in every sense of the word."

Jason wasn't following. "We've never used the coffee business to launder money."

"_You've_ never used the coffee business to launder money," Jake corrected. "Sonny did. That's when he was almost busted by the Feds and he put everything in your name. You cleaned it up and kept it that way."

"So you're proposing to do the same thing that once had the Feds breathing down our neck?"

He shrugged. "Pretty much. But there's a difference: I propose not to be stupid about it."

Sonny could be heard growling under his breath, but Jake ignored him.

"You'd be stretching everything too thin," Jason argued. "Remember how when we were transferring the organization to Morgan, you were worried about the business being weak in transition? Besides, there's no need to expand the coffee business. We've never cared that much about it as its own thing – it was for appearances since we started it, and we were more than happy to keep it status-quo. The only thing that mattered was that we weren't into the red, that's all. The coffee is _not_ where our profit margins come from."

"But why couldn't it be?" Jake persisted. "Have you seen the projections? Did you get a copy of that? Here, take mine."

He slid his file across the table to his father, who flipped it open to the pages he mentioned. "Look at those projections and tell me that we should just run the coffee business so we're not in the red. We have the demand, now it's just a matter of creating the markets. With the profit coming in from the other side of the business, we bulk up the legitimate sector. We need the capital to set up more shipping routes, create in-roads to the mid-Atlantic area and even the Midwest. While you've been running the coffee business, letting it just kind of sit on its own, the Corinthos-Morgan Coffee name earned itself quite a reputation. Our coffee's good, our prices are decent, and what more do we need? We'd be stupid not to take advantage of this."

Jason scanned the report as he listened along to his son. He had to admit, he was thrown a little by Jake's eagerness to pursue this, as well as his willingness to discuss the matter rather than simply tell Jason to leave if he didn't like what they were doing. It was possible that Jake was now realizing that running the business was a team operation, and that he needed the input of those around him.

Of course, Jason had no way of knowing that the reason for this subtle change in Jake's behavior was that for the first time in a very long time, Jake felt settled and happy, both personally and professionally. He was finally out of that job at Jacks Enterprises; though he was very grateful to Jax for even hiring him and keeping him on, he knew from the first day that it wasn't for him. He belonged in this business, and now that he had it, he felt settled.

Morgan, who didn't give a flying fuck about the organization, was more than happy to let Jake run it the way he saw fit, stopping by only to put his signature on the appropriate line and keep up his appearance in front of his father as the figurehead, the one with the final say on everything. That meant that Jake was running the show, and being in control like that allowed the young man a sense of peace.

Finally, he was the one that had all the answers. He made all the decisions, and everyone came to him for help and listened to him. That sense of control was what he felt he had been lacking since he was a boy and he found out that his father disrupted his life in a way that was entirely outside his realm of control.

"Do you see what I'm saying?" he asked, sitting on the table and bracing one leg on the floor for support. "To do this, we need more money and we need more shipments moved. Simple as that. We've got Floyd in a tight spot as it is-"

Molly chortled at that, causing Jason to frown. "Tight spot? What do you mean?"

Jake smirked. "Let's just say that there were other reasons that he was so keen on having those old houses bulldozed for his dog park. Since we found out what they were, he's been much more, shall we say, cooperative. Anyway, we've got him in a tight spot which means that from that standpoint, we can safely double up and he'll turn a blind eye. We'll be able to move even more of it when he wins reelection."

"If," Jason corrected.

"When," his son repeated firmly, his blue eyes glittering. "Come on, you know that it'll be child's play after blackmailing a District Judge and jury-tampering. You're insulting me, man."

He closed the file and slid it back across the table. "Look, I don't think this is a good idea. You're risking the whole business for the legitimate part of it."

"The legitimate part of it has been neglected," he countered. "For decades, it's been neglected. It needs to equal our other operations in breadth and earnings if we're going to properly stabilize the whole organization."

"Stabilize the organization," came a voice from the doorway, and they looked over to see Morgan, wearing his dress pants and shirt with a suit jacket slung over his arm, enter. He took his seat next to his father and dumped his files on the table. "Sounds good. What did I miss?"

Sonny scowled. "Did you know this meeting was going on or is he trying to cut you out of the business again?"

"I knew it was going on," Morgan snorted. "I just couldn't be here. Court adjourned for the day, and I have my closing arguments tomorrow, so I figured I'd come home for a little bit. Wanted to stop by the house and see Mom and Jax. With CeeCee in Milan right now and Mike in London, they don't have anyone."

"How'd the case go?" Jake asked, referring to the one against the small syndicate responsible for the counterfeit drugs.

"Very well," his old friend replied. "Like I said, I make closing remarks tomorrow. They're on file and ready, so I don't have much left to do. Figured I'd come home, see Mom and Jax, drop by the meeting, and then fly back. Wanted to have dinner in the city with my associates and get a good night's sleep there before returning to court. Rumor has it that the jury won't be deliberating for long, anyway. With any luck, we'll have a verdict and sentencing by the day after tomorrow. Anyway, don't let me interrupt. Go on. Go on with the thing."

"Right." Jake cleared his throat and continued. "Like I was saying-"

"How can you let him run things like this?" Sonny demanded of his son, clearly forgetting Jake's warning from earlier. "This is _your_ business, Morgan, yours since birth, and you're letting an outsider completely take control."

Jason looked over just in time to see the corner of Jake's mouth curl. "Well, I'm hardly an outsider, really."

Morgan shot him a look containing some kind of warning, Jason couldn't be sure, and turned back to his father. "I don't mind, Dad. It's better this way. I don't have time for this business, anyway – for the past few months, I've been bogged down in all the work for Traponi versus the People of the State of New York. Helping the NYDA put those bastards behind bars takes precedence over talking about coffee and shipments and all that."

He jerked his chin at his best friend. "Besides, Jake knows exactly what he's doing. He knows exactly how to run this business. Hell, he's been learning and planning and thinking about these things for years. Since you two started grooming me to take over, actually."

Jason frowned. "What are you talking about?"

His nephew snorted with amusement. "You didn't think that all those ideas and insights were mine, did you? All those brilliant ideas I supposedly had, they were all from Jake. He'd feed me the dirt and I'd regurgitate it for you guys and you'd think that I was so perceptive and shrewd and that I was worth my salt. What, now that you find out that it was Jake, suddenly those ideas and insights aren't as good anymore? Aren't as valid?"

He rolled his broad shoulders in a dismissive shrug. "Whatever. I don't think it changes a damn thing. Jake, you were talking about using one sector of the business to strengthen the whole organization."

"I was," he agreed. "That's exactly what I propose to do."

"But jeopardizing the whole business just for the sake of the coffee end of it is not smart," Jason repeated. "It's just not."

"You know that the IRS is watching us, right?" Jake's eyes bore into his. "That they've slowly been waking up since the organization changed hands, and they've been seeing how much money we're making? With the coffee business so grossly neglected, there's no way anyone would believe that it's how we manage to support our lavish lifestyles. How me and Morgan can buy and maintain so many different real estate holdings in the state of New York. How we can have so many men on our payroll, how we can have a fleet of bullet-proof and bomb-proof cars at our disposal. They tried to do the same thing to you when you were in charge, but at least you were smart about it. You scaled the operation down, paid people under the table. I don't have the patience for that shit. We have to build the business up and manage the funds carefully."

"I still don't agree," he replied flatly.

"That's your prerogative," Jake allowed. "Just like it's mine not to listen to you."

Jason watched him ease away from the table, standing to his full height by the projection screen. Jake seemed to remember something and headed over to the desk.

"Besides," he continued, "this is going to be an extremely profitable venture in the long-run, to say nothing of how practical it is. We're thinking of the next generation here."

Morgan nodded along as Jake turned, another file in his hands. "Morgan and I made a choice when we partnered up. We're all in, no bailing, and we go into this with our eyes wide open, expecting everything that comes with it. The next generation will _not _be left cleaning up the mess made by this one."

The words rankled with Sonny, who felt like his best friend's son was accusing him of making a mess for him and Morgan to clean up, but Jake wasn't concerned about his hurt feelings. "Our kids, when they come of age, will have not one but two successful, potentially independent businesses to choose from: the coffee business, and the mob organization.

Sonny squinted at him, and even Jason was surprised. "…Seriously?"

"You're thinking about the next generation?" Jason asked with such incredulity that Jake actually bristled. "Already? What the hell for?"

His eyes were hard and flashed just once. "Morgan and I are in this for the long haul. And that means that we have to start thinking about our children _now_ rather than later, when we get caught with our pants down and realize we forgot to use a fucking condom and have to scramble to deal with it and fix what we fucked up."

Jason stared at his son in shock, and even Sonny was dumbfounded at the vehemence and conviction in his voice. Morgan nervously looked back and forth between the two men before loudly clearing his throat.

"Right. Two successful businesses. I'm all for it."


	32. Go Nowhere

**Note – **I took creative license with the lyrics, just a little. And remember, I took poetic license with their ages. No way is Jason still in his late forties. That would mean that Jake was still in his teens. But again, my story. I can do that. :-P There's just something very stubborn inside me that won't let me put the words "Jason Morgan" and "over fifty years old" in the same sentence. LOL!

**-Mean-**

**-31-**

_Stop and stare._

_You think you're moving_

_But you go nowhere._

_And you'd give anything_

_To get what's fair._

_But fair ain't what you really need._

**-- **"Stop and Stare," OneRepublic

**.: Elm Street :.**

Jason Morgan's bike.

It was parallel parked right by an old parking meter a block away from Kelly's, and Jake happened upon it when he was walking from the warehouse to the diner to grab lunch with Amalia. She had a terrible argument with her father that morning and she sounded a bit frustrated when he called her up an hour ago, so he thought he'd take her out for the afternoon to help get her mind off things.

It was what he always did when her father made her cry. And Amalia, in turn, had always been there for Jake when his father made _him _cry. A long time ago, he'd vowed to return that favor and that deep trust whenever he possibly could, and today that meant a long, leisurely lunch at Kelly's, probably ice cream on the docks, and maybe shenanigans in the park.

That was before he saw the bike, though, and now he was cutting it pretty close to being late for their lunch date because he just couldn't stop staring at it.

It was beautiful in all its chrome and leather glory. Jason had a motorcycle since before Jake could remember, hence all the motorcycle-themed gifts he received on his birthday that Cam always threw away for him. Jake would see him driving it all over town. Before he knew that Jason was his father, he lived to see the sight of him roaring down the street on that thing. He even took to imitating the sound it made, always succeeding in getting a laugh from his mother when he did so.

This thing was Jason's trademark as much as his leather jacket. Even in his late forties, he still drove it whenever he could, weather and road conditions permitting.

He hiked his jeans up just a little at the knees and crouched down, admiring the detailing and the wheels, and Jake was so caught up in his inspection of the motorcycle that he didn't hear the footsteps approaching him.

"You like it?"

He was on his feet in a flash, absolutely hating that he had been caught off guard, and looked over to see his father standing next to him. "Your bike."

Jason nodded at the obvious statement. "Yup."

Jake looked down at it again. "It's nice. How old is it?"

"This thing?" Jason looked down at it with him. "I got it the day after Morgan named you his partner in the business."

Jake looked at him, stunned, and let out a guffaw. "You're kidding. Shit, man, you're making that up."

Jason shook his head, grinning. "Nope. I went out that night and got a completely new one, top of the line. I, uh…" He tugged on his ear. "I didn't deal with that business decision very well. Call it, uh, a mid-life crisis or…something."

Jake smirked and gently toed the wheel. "Well, I guess I'm kind of flattered to have played some part in you coming by this thing. She's beautiful."

"Yeah." He glanced over at him. "…You, uh, thinking of getting one or something?"

Jake shook his head, grinning. "No way. You want me to give my mom even more gray hairs?"

Jason laughed aloud at that. "I thought she liked bikes."

It was a loaded remark, a hint at their past relationship, but Jake let it slide. "She does, but not with me on one. Besides, it's not my thing."

"Yeah?"

He shook his head. "Morgan has one, you know. Keeps it in the garage at Oceanside, only takes it out when the weather's nice and he feels like riding. He tried to teach me how once, but I never really got into it. You have to balance on the curves and really be careful with how you place your weight…"

Jason nodded. "It takes some practice to get the handling right."

"See, that's why it's not for me." Jake slipped his hands into his pockets. "Morgan – he's different from me. He's real patient, real easygoing when it comes to certain things. Me, I'm 

impatient. I shouldn't even be trusted with the car I have now. Eight cylinders, fastest thing on pavement. No way. If I tried to drive a motorcycle over any stretch of distance, I'd take it too fast, get too impatient, balance my weight wrong, and scrape my face off. I'll leave that to you and Morgan."

Jason smiled at that. "Well, you've got a nice car. Things even out."

"That's what I tell myself," he laughed. "Plus, a car has seat belts. And airbags. And mine's bullet-proof, too. Although my mother still refuses to ride in it. She says my driving takes ten years off her life every time."

Jason chuckled at that, inwardly relieved to be having such a natural, easy conversation with his son. They hadn't parted on good terms at the meeting yesterday; something had obviously been troubling Jake, if his outburst about condoms and the next generation was any indication. But he seemed much more at ease now.

He glanced over at him and saw Jake wincing. He closed his eyes tightly, clenching them shut, but his grimace didn't fade. Jason watched with growing concern when Jake finally reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills. He uncapped it slowly and shook out one, and Jason saw that they had each been cut in half.

"…You okay?"

"Headache," he muttered, popping half a pill in his mouth. He dry-swallowed it and capped the bottle, putting it away as if he hated the sight of it and the fact that he needed the medication it held. "Get them a lot sometimes if I don't get enough sleep."

"I noticed that. Cameron prescribe you those?"

"Yeah. I try to take half. They're pretty strong, and it seems stupid to be taking something like that for just a headache." He rolled his shoulders. "They make me irritable, too. Headaches, I mean. But once the edge wears off, it's better."

Jason cleared his throat awkwardly, figuring he had nothing to lose. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you. About what happened yesterday…"

"I'm sorry about that," Jake interrupted softly, still gazing at the bike so that he wouldn't have to look at his father. His outburst yesterday had been callous and unplanned, and even he had been taken aback by it. Maybe he wasn't as settled as he had gotten to thinking he was. Thankfully, Morgan got things back on track immediately afterward and prevented him from saying anything else about the matter.

"I got carried away for a minute there."

Jason shrugged. "It's…understandable. I guess."

Jake's shrewd blue eyes darted to the side, narrowing. "Why would you say that?"

His father shrugged again, awkwardly this time. "I, uh, I have a little experience with things like that."

This time, Jake had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. "Huh?"

"Michael…used to have questions and anger about that," Jason admitted. "When he was young, he found out that he was my brother AJ's son, and that his parents weren't married and that they didn't plan on having him. That he was an accident."

Jake was nodding slowly, suspicious now. "Yeah…"

"He went through a phase where he was just really angry about that," he continued. "He asked me and his mom and Sonny all sorts of questions about his birth and how he was conceived, and we had to answer him because…because at some point, a kid deserves to know."

Something cold and hard and ugly turned in the pit of his stomach, and Jake barely managed to swallow the bile that threatened to rise. "Yeah. Yeah, he does."

Jason shuffled his feet. "…And it took him a while to understand that even though he wasn't planned, he was wanted. And that Carly always loved him above everything, and that all the choices she made, including leaving him with me for that first year, were for his well-being. And that Sonny loved him like a son even though they didn't share a biological connection, and that the Quartermaines were proud to call him their grandson, too."

He looked over at his son, his eyes dim but at the same time a little hopeful. "Look, I…I've known your mother for a very, very long time. Long before you were born. And…And I know the gossip that the people in this town used to spread about your and your brother. And your parents. None of it was true. Elizabeth…she was like Carly in that sense. She didn't plan on having children, but once she did, she couldn't imagine her life any other way. She always wanted you and Cam-"

Jake's voice when he spoke was oddly hollow, and he turned smoothly on his heel and headed for Kelly's. "I have to go."

Jason stopped, momentarily stunned into silence at the abrupt remark, and shut his mouth as he watched his son leave. His steps were heavy, slightly plodding, and his hands were still deep in his pockets when he saw Amalia, who was standing in front of the door and waving to him.

He looked tired.

* * *

**.: Penthouse 2, Harborview Towers :.**

"I can't explain it," Spinelli said, staring blankly at his computer screen as he sat next to Jason on the couch. "But 400,000 dollars were wired into your account last night."

"Can't you trace the account where the money came from?"

"I tried," he insisted, "but I have nothing. It's like it just appeared out of nowhere. At first I thought it was a computation error on the program's part, but no. It just showed up in your account. Whoever sent it to you obviously does not want you to know who or why."

Jason frowned at the screen, a reflection of his bank account in an off-shore fund. He had no way of knowing it, of course, but the money was from his son. Jake had calculated how much Jason spent on his tuition at Yale, factored in the interest, rounded off to the nearest hundred-thousand, and arranged for the money to be wired. As far as he was concerned, that debt to his father was paid and wiped clean.

"Do you – Do you suppose the Not So Innocent One would know?" Spinelli asked. "Maybe it's…some kind of allowance?"

Jason grimaced at the thought of his own son shelling out allowance for him. "I don't think so. That doesn't sound like Jake. He might try that with Sonny to humiliate him, but I don't get the feeling he'd do that to me."

Spinelli snorted, clearly not as certain as he was. "I don't suppose we'd get anywhere if we asked him. I mean, he's been pretty firm about shutting you out of the business. I was surprised that he didn't mind when you and Sonny kept attending meetings."

Jason shrugged. "Sometimes he ignores us, sometimes, when he's excited, he tosses ideas back and forth with us. It's hard to tell what it'll be when we walk in. He goes kind of hot and cold."

"He's been pretty hostile to you and Sonny, though," his young friend pointed out.

"A lot of that has to do with Sonny," Jason admitted. "Sonny isn't happy about Jake being involved because he thinks this should all be Morgan's. I can't believe we didn't realize that Morgan was playing us all these years, that he really didn't care about the business. They did a really good job. We fell for all of it. We thought that Morgan had good instincts for this line of work, that he really wanted it, but the whole time, that person was Jake."

"I heard about his plan." He continued to click away on his keyboard, still searching for anything he could trace back to the sender. "He's going to jeopardize the business, and he's too green to see it."

Jason closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. "I'm worried about him. I'm afraid he'll run the business into the ground, but more importantly, that he'll get hurt in the process."

"What are you going to do?" Spinelli asked somberly. "What will Jake _let _you do?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "But I know that my son needs me now, more than he's ready to admit. Jake needs me _and_ his mother to stay safe in this, and I won't fail him."

"Good for you." The young detective nodded and turned back to his search. "You can't just let this go on, especially if you know that your kid stands to get hurt."

"Jake's depending on me," Jason affirmed. "He's – Oh. Hold on."

He fished his phone out of his pocket and frowned when he saw the number on the screen. "What?"

Spinelli listened in on the conversation, knowing Jason wouldn't mind. Besides, his former roommate was more than used to him being involved in nearly every aspect of his life. It came with the territory.

"_Jason, I need you to come to the ELQ offices right now."_

"What for?"

"_Trouble," _came the reply. _"The company might be bought out, and I'm not confident I have the votes to save it. And my own great-grandsons are siding against me! I need you to come to the meeting immediately and vote against the measure. And then I need you to talk some sense into Michael and Spencer!"_

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "All right. All right, I'll be right there. Okay."

He flipped his phone off and stood, reaching for his jacket. Spinelli remained parked on the couch in front of his computer.

"ELQ shenanigans?"

"Something like that," Jason grumbled, scooping up his keys. "Keep trying to find out where that money came from. I'll see you later."

* * *

**.: Board Room, ELQ Headquarters :.**

"They're expecting you, Mister Morgan," Edward's personal assistant said, already holding the door to the board room open as Jason trotted down the hall. "They just need your votes to veto this. All you have to do is walk in and say 'Nay.' Your grandfather would appreciate it very much."

He nodded at her and stepped into the room, catching Edward's grateful look. "I vote it down. Not in favor."

His grandfather let out a tremendous sigh of relief as Jason heard someone swear darkly. "And the measure does not pass. I am _so_ sorry, _Mister_ Webber."

_Mister Webber?_ Jason frowned and looked toward the other end of the long room, absolutely stunned when he saw his son and Molly Lansing standing there. Jake wore a suit with a pale blue shirt, his expression positively ferocious at the humiliation, and Molly's expression was likewise grim as she stood loyally at his side, her laptop tucked against her side.

"Jake?"

His son glared at him. "Thank you. Thank you for that."

"Yes, thank you, indeed, Jason," Edward beamed, rising from his seat to clap his grandson on the back. "You single-handedly saved our company from being run into the ground at the hands of this…this…"

"Careful, Edward," Jake warned.

The old man's smile was snake-like. "This…_charming_ young man."

Jake snorted. Next to him. Spencer idly swiveled his seat, looking out the window now that the measure had been defeated and his grandfather knew where he stood. Though not a Quartermaine by blood, the family still saw Spencer as Emily's son with Nikolas and welcomed him as part of the family, giving him his share of ELQ stock. It had always been the height of irony to him: he didn't share their blood but stood on the board of the company that bore their name, while Jake, who was for all intents and purposes the rightful heir as Jason's son since Michael made it clear he didn't want ELQ, had nothing of the company to his name.

"You won't be buying out my company this day, boy," Edward sneered, his pale blue eyes glittering. "And to think, how close you were, too, no thanks to my ingrate grandsons."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "You're not going to get all _dramatic_ about this, are you, Grandfather?"

Jason, who was still unable to tear his eyes away from his fuming son, was surprised when he heard his other nephew's voice emanating from the speaker on the telephone placed on the table.

"_Try not to gloat, Grandfather, it doesn't suit you. Jake, sorry, buddy. I tried."_

His son's gaze didn't waver from his. "Thanks, Mike, I know."

"_I gotta go, but call me if you need anything. Take it easy, kid. Grandfather."_

"Michael," the old man huffed. "Turncoat."

"_Oh, come off it, Grandfather," _they heard him laugh. _"You know there's a small part of you that finds this whole thing very amusing because it's something that you yourself would have _

_attempted back in the day. Give my love to Grammonica, and I'll see you the next time I'm in Port Charles. Goodbye."_

The line clicked and Edward's assistant quickly turned the speaker off. Edward took his seat again and tented his fingers over the table, unable to mask his smug self-satisfaction.

"Well, Jake, my boy, you may have overestimated yourself."

A muscle in Jake's jaw ticked. "Clearly I did, or otherwise I'd be sitting in your seat right now."

Edward's smile turned thin and cold. "Not a chance. Not while I'm still alive. This company is mine and I will think long and hard before I name my heir. I will choose a solid, level-headed man with good business sense and unquestionable integrity. As for you – why, you're just a snot-nosed little boy that's always thought he could have everything he wanted. You think you can talk your way out of everything, and I'm here to tell you that you can't."

He wagged a finger at him. "Don't think I don't know about how you used to take the Bentley out for a joy ride when Michael and Spencer would bring you over to Quartermaine Manor with them. Why they felt the need to do that, I'll never know…"

Spencer and Jake exchanged looks. The two boys visited their grandparents often enough during their youth, and dragging Jake along with them was their way of letting him be close to his family as well. Edward was such a colorful character, after all; Michael and Spencer didn't feel like hogging him.

"I don't deal with criminals," Edward stated flatly, tilting his chin up and ignoring how Jake's eyes immediately flicked toward Jason. "This company has been in the Quartermaine family since we created it, and it will stay that way. I will never pass it on to a non-Quartermaine, not while I've still got breath left in me."

From the way Jake's smile suddenly turned cold, and the way he braced his hands on the table and leaned forward, Jason half-thought that the next thing he'd hear was his son issuing the old man a death threat.

But his fears were unfounded, despite the cold glint in Jake's eyes.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear," he purred, eyes narrowed, voice smooth and silky but dangerous at the same time. "I want this company. I'm going to have this company. And," he added when Edward opened his mouth to protest, "either you're going to fight me to the death for it, or you lot will all be smart and hand it to me on a silver platter."

Edward stared at him silently for such a long, strained moment that Jake actually fidgeted. "Why do you want this company so badly?" he asked quietly, sounding more contemplative and curious than threatened. "What is it to you?"

Jake straightened and tipped his chin up a notch. "That's for me to know."

He tilted his head toward the door and turned. Molly, holding her laptop against her chest, flashed them all a sweet smile and followed him out.


	33. Your Smile, It Melts Away Again

**Note – **I've said this before, but I'll say it again. If you do not like Jake one bit, this is NOT the story for you. Not at all. Also, the Cheat Codes at my site (go to my profile here, click on the link to Solo Ensemble, head down the page until you see "Mean" under "Incomplete Liason Stories," click on "Mean," and in that forum you will see a thread that says Cheat Codes) contain a lot of answers to questions people have, including the one about how Jason could side with Edward without any question. From now on, if you have Mean questions, email or PM me if you want them answered. Answers will appear in the Cheat Codes thread.

**-Mean-**

**-32-**

_Melody day, where have you gone?_

_And the hope I had is dying,_

_And what we had has come undone._

_Then your smile, it melts away again._

-- "Melody Day," Caribou

**.: Fifth Floor Hub, General Hospital :.**

"You son of a-"

The man that Patrick Drake looked ready to punch held up his mp3 player to his face. "Go ahead, call me something. It'll be admissible in a court of law."

His hands tightened on the packet of papers that the man had served him with, making a harsh crinkling sound. "You're suing us?! For saving your life? Who the hell does that?"

Elizabeth and Leyla stood at his side, similarly upset but doing their best not to say anything that would incriminate them. Now that Diane Miller was no longer on retainer with the organization, she worked for several of the doctors at General Hospital. Patrick was thrilled to finally be able to retain her, and Leyla had just called her a few minutes ago to alert her of the situation.

"Saving my life?" The man, a Mister Roland T. Simmons according to the legal forms, snorted. "Thanks to you, I contracted a dangerous infection that resulted in scarring and considerable mental anguish and discomfort. And I'm taking you to court."

"Why am I not surprised?" Patrick glowered at the man, his lips twisting into a disgusted grimace as Elizabeth glared. "You've sued just about every single doctor that's treated you in the past three years. Based on your record, most hospitals just pay you to settle. That's what you count on, isn't it? Who needs a damn job if they've got your legal prowess? God, chasing ambulances is more respectable than what you do."

"All of this is admissible in court," Ronald smiled. "Go on, I'm sure you've got something else left in you."

"You're a despicable human being," Elizabeth spat, unable to help herself. "Patrick and Leyla were with you in the OR and I supervised your post-op treatment. Based on your medical records and your history, we had _no way_ of knowing that you'd have an allergic reaction to the gabapentin. It was noted in your chart and your medication was immediately changed. Instead of being grateful, you do this? You're despicable!"

"And you're going to pay for my new kitchen, Nurse…" He leaned forward and squinted at her name tag. "Webber. What do you think about that?"

While he was leering at her chest, the elevator doors slid open, and the doctors and patient gathered together at the hub were altogether unprepared when they were interrupted.

Jake Webber, dressed in dark jeans, his usual boots, and a tailored black dress shirt, moved smoothly into their group until he was standing with his shoulder just a little in front of his mother, marking the distance between her and the strange man.

"Is there a problem here?"

Patrick was still seething as the man frowned at Jake, trying to remember where he'd seen his face. "You could say that. This jackass is suing me, Elizabeth, and Leyla for giving him the best possible medical care after a routine surgery."

Ronald Simmons was still frowning. "Who are you supposed to be?"

Jake smiled widely, his familiar, all-American grin, and held out his hand. Ronald accepted it after a moment's hesitation, shaking it firmly. "I'm Jake Webber of Corinthos-Webber Coffee Imports."

The man's eyes widened, and he remembered the headlines he'd seen in the newspaper describing the charismatic but lethal young mob lord. "You – You're – Webber -"

"That's right," he beamed facetiously, still shaking the man's hand as his grip grew progressively tighter. "My last name _is _Webber. And did you get a chance to take a look at her name tag a minute ago? What did it say?"

"E-Elizabeth Webber," he got out, pulling his hand free of Jake's and rubbing his wrist. "So – she's -"

"That's right," he replied again in kind, his wide smile never faltering. "You're absolutely right – she's my mother. And it seems like you have some kind of problem with her, is that correct?"

He turned to Patrick and took the forms from his hand, leafing through them. "Looks like you have quite a problem with her. Something about gabapentin." He turned to his mother. "Painkiller used in post-op treatments, right?"

When she nodded, Jake looked at Ronald Simmons and smiled again. "I learned that from my brother, Doctor Cameron Webber, who you've never met, fortunately. He's the head of Immunology here, and if you tried to pull this shit with him, he'd put his foot up your ass in the nicest, most legal way possible. It's how he rolls."

He clasped his hands, file and all, in front of him. "Well, Ronald T. Simmons, also known as the plaintiff? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Uh…" The man blanched and made a futile grab for the file. "Nothing, Mister Webber. In fact, I'd like to withdraw my complaint-"

"Uh-uh." Jake held the file back and lifted it out of his reach, and his eyes hardened. "These are mine now. You'll see my lawyer in court. Now, get."

He snarled the last word and jerked his head toward the elevators, and the plaintiff had no choice but to slink away. The matter handled, Jake tucked the file under his arm and turned to his stunned mother. His demeanor changed instantly, his eyes softening and a small, relaxed smile tugging up the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry I'm a little late."

Elizabeth gaped at him. "How – Jake, how did you know to-"

He shuffled his feet, shrugging. "Cameron sent me a text when I got here to pick you up. Said you might need my help. I came up instead of waiting for you out there. So, you ready to head out to dinner with us, Mom?"

* * *

**.: Office of Cameron Webber, Head of the Immunology Department, General Hospital :.**

Elizabeth picked up the jar of red M&Ms on her son's desk and sit down in its spot. The jar had little red hearts on it and had come fully loaded with her son's favorite candy, a gift from Molly when Cameron got the department head position after uncovering the counterfeit drug ring.

She swept a quick gaze around the spacious office, more out of habit than anything else. "Did you remember to eat lunch today, honey?"

Cameron smiled to himself as he signed off on his insurance reports. "Yes, Mom."

She leaned off the corner of his desk and looked for his trash can. "Have the custodial staff been dumping out your wastepaper basket every day? Sometimes they leave it if it doesn't fill up all the way every day; you have to ask them specifically to empty it every night."

He scrawled his signature on the appropriate line, still smirking. "Yes, Mom."

Her dark blue eyes scanned the bookcase behind him, looking at his little trinkets and the photos of him and Jake, him and Molly, and the three of them together when they were all younger. She finally stopped on a photo of Cameron and Leo taken when Cameron was around ten or eleven years old. Leo was in his coat and scrubs and Cameron stood next to him, wearing his stethoscope. Her ex had even added a little note that read, _Always knew you'd make it here one day, buddy. Leo._

"And you have those disinfectant wipes I gave you for the wood, right? Dust makes your allergies act up."

Cameron piled the last of the reports and put them next to a tall stack of applications for the two fellowship openings he was going to start interviewing for soon. "Yes, Mom."

He watched her fidget some more, sitting on the corner of his desk in her pink scrubs, those red M&Ms still in her lap. "Everything okay? You look like something's bothering you," he added when she looked at him.

Elizabeth sighed and idly twisted the cap off the jar, shaking it slightly to make the candies tinkle against the glass. "Just…thinking."

"You usually get this way after our Wednesday night dinners," he couldn't resist pointing out. It was their tradition, his, hers, and Jake's. Every Wednesday night, they'd go out to dinner, just the three of them, and catch up. He would talk about work, Elizabeth would talk about work, and Jake would listen to them talk about work since he couldn't very well do the same. "Come on, let's take a walk, get some coffee."

He rose from his chair and held out his hand, and Elizabeth set the jar down and took it. Cameron led her out of the office, closing the door securely behind them, and together they headed toward the hub. The halls were mostly empty at this time of the day, so it was all right to talk.

"It's about Jake."

"I figured," Cameron murmured. "What is it this time?"

Elizabeth absently began to wring her hands together. "I just…People are afraid of him."

Her oldest son quirked her a little smile. "You've only just noticed this?"

She rolled her eyes and swatted his arm lightly. "You know what I mean. He told me that you were the one that sent him a text yesterday and told him that me, Patrick and Leyla needed his help. You knew he'd scare the guy off, intimidate him."

"Of course," Cameron shrugged. "Jake's name is well known. He's got a reputation, Mom. People know not to mess with him or do stupid things around him. He just has to look at people to have them running scared. And that idiot that tried to threaten you and Uncle Pat and Nurse 

Mir – he deserves everything he gets. Kay is going to rip him to shreds. When she's done, he'll be lucky to ever get medical care in this state again. Doctors who take the Hippocratic Oath more seriously than anything in their lives would _still _be more likely to let him die in the gutter than treat him."

She stared at him, shocked. "And you think that's right?!"

"I think he brings it on himself," Cameron replied in his typical no-nonsense way. "You can't do what he makes a habit of doing and get away with it, Mom. That man needed a run-in with Jake. He needed to be stopped. Jake was just the man to do it. He's got the money, the connections, and the power to back up all his threats. He's the first one I'd call if a situation like that came up and we needed someone to throw his weight around. Jake does it like a pro. It's kind of weird, sometimes, because he's still my kid brother and all."

Elizabeth followed him down the hall, puzzling over his easy-going air about the whole thing. "…It – It really doesn't bother you? What he does?"

"He's still Jake, Mom," her oldest son smiled. "He's the same guy he ever was – since he was a kid."

"It's still hard for me to get used to the idea," she admitted quietly. "What he does. It's unbelievable to me sometimes."

When Jake became Morgan's business partner, Elizabeth had a very difficult time dealing with it. She went through the different phases: denial that her little boy was doing this, anger over his choices, rationalizing how he could have done it, anguish at what it all meant, and she still wasn't sure she had reached acceptance. Since it happened, she had cried, she threw things, she yelled and ranted, and she went through her really quiet, really numb moments.

Because everything she said to Jason was true: now that this had happened, it meant their choices all those years ago meant nothing. They had done it all for nothing, and that was the most painful part of all.

"Mom, there's something you should know." Cameron took her arm before they crossed the final stretch of hallway leading to the hub. "When Jake became Morgan's partner – I told him to do it."

Elizabeth stared up at him. "…What?"

"I told him that he should do it," Cameron repeated. "I – I was on the phone with him when I heard the gunshots, I heard Morgan yell and tackle him down, and the next thing I knew, he was telling me to get to Oceanside. I pulled the bullet out of his shoulder and cleaned him up, and that was when Morgan started talking about the business."

He stood evenly in front of her, not shifting his weight, perfectly calm during this reveal. "He said that their enemies knew how Jake helped him out, and that they had to partner up now if 

they were going to be safe. Jake didn't want to do it – he was actually dead set against it. I was the one that convinced him to do it. Not even Morgan could, because Jake didn't want to."

Her knees were starting to go weak, and Elizabeth could only gape at him. "You? You – You told him to do it?"

Cameron nodded. "Yeah. I convinced him to because I honestly believed it would keep him safe. I still do. His enemies already found out that he was a valuable asset to Morgan – they would have taken care of him if he kept out of the mob and kept his head down. As partner, they can't touch him without starting a huge war. They have to wait for him to slip up, and I have a feeling that Jake will keep them waiting."

He cleared his throat and looked down at her, his gaze never wavering. "I stand by what I said, Mom. I know that Jake only agreed to become partner then because I told him to. I don't regret that. I don't agree with the violence of what he does, but it's a fact of life for him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, he's still my brother. He's still my blood, and I'll never go back on that. Just like I know he won't. At the end of the day, he's still the same brother to me that he's been my whole life. And that's good enough for me."

He took her arm gently as they neared the hub. Her expression was troubled, and Cameron knew that she was processing what he told her, trying to make sense of it in her head.

"How could you tell him to be partner? Just like that?"

He pursed his lips together, reminding himself to be patient. "Like I said, it wasn't 'just like that,' Mom. Jake knew that Morgan didn't really want the business, but he didn't want to disappoint his dad."

That wasn't really the truth, but it was the most he could say.

"He helped Morgan out of a couple of situations, gave him some business advice, listened when Morgan needed a sounding board. He got in deeper and deeper until someone figured out what he did at Morgan's trial and tried to have him eliminated. It was a slow process, Mom, but when it came to a head…wow. It just exploded in his face. And his shoulder."

He shook his head, wincing at that memory. "And I knew that it would only get worse until he came out publicly as Morgan's partner. Next time, he might have even ended up dead."

"Don't talk like that," she said harshly. "There's no reason for it."

"But it's the truth," Cameron told her quietly. "Telling ourselves anything else is just…being delusional."

"Doctor Webber?"

They turned around to see Leyla standing at the hub, holding out a file. Elizabeth flashed her a small smile and left her son's side, stepping up into the nurses' station.

"I was just about to page you," she said, handing the chart over to him. "Consult for you."

Cameron took it from her and flipped it open, quickly scanning the patient history and notes. "Who's this from?"

"Er…Bates. Works under Dr. Combs in Internal-"

"Another resident," Cameron grumbled. "Hand me the phone, please? I'll call him up with his 'consult' right now."

Leyla passed him the phone as Elizabeth gathered up the patient charts for her own team and made sure her nurses were doing their job. "Here you are."

Cameron dialed to the correct wing and waited. "Doctor Webber here. Bates and Combs around? Yeah, that's fine, I'll speak to them both at the same time that way. Thank you."

He waited on the line, tapping the patient file against the counter. "Combs, hi. Cameron here. I see you let your resident pass on a consult for a Mister…James Mitchell. Right. Forty year old Caucasian male, adopted, peanut allergy, tattoo of a Celtic knot on his right buttocks. Bates, you there? You know what tattoo _I_ have on my right buttocks? I'll tell you. It says: It's Never Lupus."

Elizabeth gaped at him, scolding her oldest son with her eyes for being so rude, but it was very hard to scold an adult child and be taken seriously. Next to her, Leyla coughed to cover up a chuckle.

"The symptoms you've outlined here suggest something of an environmental concern present in the hospital since it's been…a week since the patient was admitted. Perhaps an allergy to the surgical instruments used, something the food was cooked in, or even surgical lights. Besides, according to my ass, it's never lupus. A heurism I live my life by. Okay. Next time, Combs, please look over your residents' consults before you allow them to send them out. I'm swamped over here, buddy. I can't go on a wild lupus chase. Okay. Okay, you, too."

Cameron put the phone back in its cradle and rolled his eyes. "I hope to God I wasn't as stupid when _I_ was a resident."

"Cameron, you can't talk to people like that!"

"I wasn't talking to people, I was talking to Combs and some resident."

Elizabeth's lips settled into a peeved line. "Doctor Combs is a department head at this hospital."

"And so am I," he smirked cheekily. "And I get to get mad at people when they waste my time on things that can't be even remotely medically true. Nurse Mir, have any more applications for my fellowship position come in?"

"Five more today," she nodded, pulling them out of the assigned folder with his department's name on it. "How many does that make so far?"

"Twenty-two candidates, two open positions," he murmured, leafing through them. "Ooh, Johns Hopkins grad. Top of the pile. Also, do you have Mr. Herbert Phillips's file still? I have the worst feeling that I made a notation wrong and want to double-check."

"I'll get it for you," his mother said, scanning the row of files under the counter. "Phillips, Phillips. Here we go."

Cameron flipped it open. "Wrong H. Phillips, Mom. I'm looking for Herbert; this is Henrietta."

"Oh." Elizabeth took the file from him, her expression softening. "That's Ria. She's just down the hall."

She sighed and set the file on the counter, feeling her son's eyes on her. "Poor thing."

"What's so special about this patient, Mom?"

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder when Leyla brushed past her, having gotten a page to the ICU, and sighed. "Henrietta Phillips, goes by Ria. Twenty-four year old Caucasian female, single, eight and a half months pregnant upon being admitted. Reason: Placental abruption."

Cameron's eyes widened. "That's pretty uncommon, isn't it? In this day and age?"

His mother nodded. "Yeah, it is. But it happened to me, too."

She adjusted her ponytail, her eyes distant, and sighed again. "She's been unconscious for two days after having an emergency C-section where we managed to deliver her son safely. Ria _is_ me when I was pregnant with Jake."

Cameron took the file from her. "Is she the one? Is she the woman you were talking about last night? The one with no husband, no family in town, and no medical insurance?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I feel so terrible for her. Me and Leyla took the case to Doctor Ford and got Ms. Sneed to step off for a little while. We petitioned that she be allowed to remain at General Hospital until she came out of the coma, and then be transferred to County. I just felt so horrible. Every time I looked at her, I kept thinking about when Jake was born, how I started bleeding, how afraid I was that I would leave you boys alone, without a mother…"

He placed his hand over hers. "But you didn't, Mom. You and Jake both made it out okay. And from these notes, it looks like her son is perfectly healthy, too."

She nodded again, swallowing past a lump in her throat. "Yeah, I know. It just gets me sometimes, you know? I don't know what Jake and I would have done if we didn't have such excellent medical care and excellent health benefits here. Ria doesn't even have that…"

Elizabeth swept her bangs out of her face and looked over when Nadine hopped up into the hub. "Hey, Nadine, did Ms. Sneed bring the discharge papers by for Ms. Henrietta Phillips yet? She said she wanted me to sign off that I got them and that she'd have them here around this time."

Nadine frowned at her, confused. "Um…I was just in Ms. Sneed's office, and according to the memo on her desk, that patient – Phillips – her bills were paid in full so far, and all future expenses incurred were to be billed independently to the benefactor or whatever. Didn't she tell you that?"

"I haven't heard from her," Elizabeth replied as Cameron looked on. "What do you mean, her bills were paid? She was a single mom – she doesn't have anyone in this town. I don't understand-"

Nadine sucked her teeth and arched a brow at Cameron, who was very studiously looking through the applications he had received. "Looks like Doogie knows."

He looked up when his mother turned on him. "Uh…"

"Cameron?"

The young man sighed and put down his files. "Look, I'm not a hundred percent on this or anything, more like ninety-five, but…Jake did it."

Nadine let out a laugh as Elizabeth gaped at him. "Jake? Our Jake?"

"Yeah."

"But how would he have even known-"

"Dinner last night." Cameron shrugged uneasily. "You talked about her. Your voice wobbled. Jake notices these things, Mom. He listens to you very carefully, all the time, more than I think you even know sometimes. He feels your pain deeply. He knew that there was something about this patient that was upsetting you on some level higher than basic human decency and compassion. He would do this – he would pay her pills and try to keep it secret. He just would. He keeps these kinds of things very close to the vest."

Elizabeth frowned. "What kinds of things?"

Her oldest son shrugged again. "Family things."


	34. Dark Will Light the Way

**Note – **Additions are made to the Cheat Codes thread all the time, for anyone who's interested. And again, with my author's note last time, I didn't mean to scare anyone. I just meant that this fic wouldn't be enjoyable if one didn't like Jake, because it's about him and mostly from his POV. And if anyone was thinking this was going to be all fluffy and that Jason and Jake would be best buds soon, they'd feel jipped and betrayed. I didn't mean to deter anyone from asking questions or posting feedback. And the sense I get from most of you is that we are in need of having the Jake/Amalia relationship fleshed out some more. I agree. I posted stuff in the Cheat Codes about that, and there's a scene coming up in either 34 or 35, too, according to my outline.

**-Mean-**

**-33-**

_When stars are falling,_

_Dark will light the way,_

_Will hit the ground _

_And fall into the shade._

_I'll light the night with fire_

_And run away._

-- "Blush (Only You)," Plumb

**.: Kelly's Diner :.**

Carly set her iced tea back at the table and grinned at her best friend. "And! And! I get an original Badgley-Mischka gown for a fraction of the cost just because CeeCee told Jimmy Mischka the quickest way to get to Chandelier from Bottega Veneta! And because she told him that her mom was his biggest fan!"

"I have no idea who that is or what that is or where that is or why it matters," Jason replied, clicking his nails against his mug.

She rolled her eyes. "Badgely-Mischka is a design label that makes red-carpet evening wear, and Jimmy Mischka is one of the designers and founders. Chandelier is only _the_ hottest restaurant in Milan, and Bottega Veneta is Tomas Maier's fashion house. Honestly, Jason."

His bland expression didn't change. "Right."

Two tables over, Johnny Zacchara was about to sit down for a leisurely lunch with his daughter, who was texting away on her phone. As always, he needed to wash his hands before he ate and rose to do so. Amalia dismissed him with a smile and a nod and went back to texting whoever it was that she was texting.

Jason looked up when his son entered, dressed in a casual suit with his top two buttons undone. Amalia, who was still focused on her phone, didn't notice. Jake smirked and made sure to walk past her toward the counter, where a waitress had his order already bagged for him. In passing, he reached out and twiddled a thick lock of her dark hair between his fingers, flashing her a 

saucy smirk when she looked up in surprise. Amalia rolled her eyes with a smile and clicked away on her phone some more.

Jake took his order from the waitress and was almost out the door when Jason heard Amalia stop him.

"Jake."

He turned and looked over at her.

She arched a brow and smiled. "I heard about what you did regarding the dock workers' strike."

The dockworkers' union went on strike about a month ago, demanding better wages, better benefits, and shorter work hours, all of which were perfectly reasonable demands given their pay, benefits, and long hours before the strike. No work was getting done at all along the waterfront, and the workers were putting the screws to many corporations, including Corinthos-Webber Coffee Imports.

The difference was that Jake chose to take advantage of the situation. He knew enough to know that strikes were bad for all concerned. The businesses didn't get any work done and didn't see profits until it was resolved, and the workers were out of a job.

So he took a gamble after discussing the legal ramifications with Morgan and Kristina and making sure that they could finagle their way out of it if they had to. He started hiring. After setting aside a budge to cover salaries, he paid his current workers their wages under the table while they were on strike so that they could continue to support themselves and their family while struggling for better conditions. He also had his men accept applications, screen applicants, and add them to the payroll. This won him tremendous good will among the dock workers' union because he was paying money to men for work that was not being done while they were not being paid by the companies they originally worked for. When the strike ended, the men would all be working for Jake, per their contracts, and the other waterfront businesses would have to struggle to pick up lost time and shipments both due to the strike and to the fact that their work force had significantly lessened.

The strike was still in progress and the budget was slowly dwindling, but Jake remained optimistic that things would work out in time and that Corinthos-Webber Coffee Imports would come out strong at the end.

"That arrangement of yours with the dock workers' union," Amalia continued, toying with her napkin and sliding him a sly look. "Very clever, provided that you can run down the clock. And the way things are, you're already halfway there."

Jake grinned as Johnny made his way back to the table, catching the tail end of their conversation. He flashed Amalia a smile and two crossed fingers. "Livin' on a prayer, baby."

She laughed as her father took his seat, shooting the two of them confused looks, and Jake ducked out of the restaurant.

"What was that about?"

Amalia shook her head and pocketed her phone as their order arrived. "Nothing. Just business."

Johnny didn't look too pleased by that remark but let it go and instead spread his napkin in his lap in a manner far too urbane for the casual, low-key diner. Carly shrugged and turned to Jason, lightly swirling her glass and making the ice cubes clink.

"He knows his stuff, doesn't he?"

Jason shifted uneasily in his seat. "Sometimes."

She sighed and dropped her hands in his lap. "Well, at any rate, it's obvious where he gets it from."

* * *

**.: Wyndemere Castle, Spoon Island :.**

It was Spencer's birthday party – the real one, as far as the young prince was concerned.

His actual birthday was the day before, and he and his father threw a big, formal ball and invited all the relatives and associates. Spencer, his wife, Nikolas, and Stefan dressed in royal evening kit complete with the family crests, medals, and other accoutrements, and spent the night mingling and making small talk with all the gathered guests.

This night, Spencer invited all of his oldest friends and their families, the people that _really _mattered. The treehouse tots were all represented, and instead of milling around the grand ballroom in fancy dresses, the guests were dressed somewhat casually – the girls in skirts and pants and the men in casual suits and slacks – and milled around the family's private parlor with drinks and an open spread on one of the tables.

Jason had spent the past hour talking to Elizabeth with Robin and Sonny occasionally acting as buffers to keep appearances casual. Then one of her friends dragged her off to talk about something and Jason found himself dragged into conversation with Nikolas and Johnny.

"I just wanted to thank you," Nikolas was telling Johnny. "For not agreeing to go into business with Spencer. I'm aware of the proposal he had for you, I'm aware of the potential loss you took, how you gave up considerable expansion and profit in turning it down, and I wanted to tell you that I really appreciate it. I don't want my son involved in those dealings, and I really appreciate your hindering that…at least for now."

Johnny nodded graciously. "You're welcome. I've heard from my daughter about 

the…difficulties you've had with your son regarding business. Children get older, they want to run their old lives, they don't want to listen to our experiences."

He sipped his whiskey and looked across the room where Spencer and his wife were talking to Morgan. "I also don't want to see him get involved in my line of work. But that wasn't the sole reason I didn't accept."

His response confused Jason. "What else was it, then?"

Johnny shrugged. "I ran the business differently than my father and my sister when I took over. I consolidated our holdings, I diversified in properties, I strengthened our base. My father and Claudia were thirsty for new territories; I wanted to make sure that what was mine stayed mine.

"And it changed when Nadine and I married, too," he added, still watching the children with a contemplative air. "When Amalia was born. Having a family changes everything."

He recognized his mistake a little too late as Nikolas nodded, and Johnny purposely avoided Jason, knowing the regret he'd see in his associate's eyes. "When I found myself with a wife and daughter, my priorities changed. There was no way I could walk away from the business, and no way I could walk away from them. So I made some important decisions and stuck with them. I did everything I said – consolidated, diversified, strengthened the base. I didn't impinge on any other boss's territory or trade. I didn't try to overthrow anyone, I didn't get involved in assassination plots. I stuck to my own turf, to my own dealings, and made sure that everyone involved knew the score if I was crossed or threatened, or worse, if my family was. It hasn't been perfect, but it's the best way I know of to make sure that Nadine and Amalia stay safe."

Nikolas was frowning as he watched his son. Spencer received a phone call that caused him to look around the room, his eyes shifty. He held a thumb over the receiver and whispered something to his wife, who nodded almost imperceptibly, and then tried to discreetly slip away.

"If you'll excuse me," the former prince murmured, setting down his cognac. "I, er, must discuss something with Alfred."

Neither Johnny nor Jason were fooled; they knew that Nikolas was going to do his best to eavesdrop on his boy as he probably had been doing for the past month or so. Jason stared off into space, idly watching Elizabeth and Nadine chat with Carly across the room, and was brought back only when he heard Johnny half-growl, half-sigh.

He followed his gaze and found the younger mob lord to be watching his daughter and Jason's son. Jake and Amalia were sitting on one of the couches with Amalia cuddled up against him, her back to his chest, as he skimmed his fingertips up and down her arm. They were talking to Cecily, who was seated on the little coffee table and making erratic gestures with her hands.

Jason slid him a sidelong glance. "I get the feeling you don't like that."

"…It worries me," Johnny finally replied after a strained pause. "For obvious reasons."

He sipped his scotch. "Those being?"

Johnny turned his head just a fraction of an inch, his gaze hard. "I'm sure you've heard all the gossip about my supposed arrangements for my daughter's life."

Jason shrugged. "I don't have any patience for gossip. Don't keep up with what people are saying."

His associate seemed to relax slightly. "It's only partly true. If you were to believe the rumors in this town, I've got my daughter locked in her room, and I plan to drag her out by her hair when I finish going through the applications submitted for the position of my future-son-in-law."

Jason smirked. "Really."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Apparently, a father being concerned about the family his only daughter marries into is positively medieval."

"What's your side of it?"

"I cannot take the prospect of my daughter's marriage lightly," he replied firmly. "She stands to inherit the entire organization that's been in our family for generations. I will not let that be wasted on…on a _graphic artist_ or…or some sort of scraggly-haired musician. Amalia realizes this. The man she marries will have to be one that is capable of running my business when I pass it on. He'll have to be familiar with this life so that he'll be able to protect Amalia and any children they may have together."

Jason nodded along. Johnny's concerns made sense to him. "How does your wife feel about it?"

"Nadine and I don't exactly see eye to eye on the issue," he admitted, "but I'm grateful that she trusts my judgment and at least sees where I'm coming from…even as she's telling me that I'm being an ape."

He sighed and continued watching the kids. Jake whispered something in Amalia's ear, making her laugh, and she reached up with her free hand and linked her fingers with his.

"This…worries me," he repeated. "Jake is a good guy. I've known him since he was a kid. He's smart, he's decent, he's dependable, and he's always been a presence in Amalia's life. But I'm worried about how serious it is."

Jason frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't want my daughter to fall in love with Jake Webber and have to marry someone else," Johnny ground out. "For whatever reason. Just being around the boy, I've gotten the sense that he doesn't think too favorably about marriage. That probably has a lot to do with all the gossip about how bitter Lucky and Elizabeth's divorce was, how he tried to take Cam and Jake from 

her, how the first thing she did was change Jake's name from Spencer to Webber afterward. If Jake has no intention of proposing marriage – although I'm not saying how I'd consider it if he were to do so – then I don't want my daughter wasting time and effort in that relationship."

He sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. "Makes me a jackass, I know, but I have to look at the big picture. I have to look to the future, even when she's too stubborn to do the same."

Jason shifted his weight. Johnny's views on this situation were a little primitive, but he could see the sense in them. Johnny and Nadine never had another child, for whatever reason, and if they had a son, he would bet that Amalia would have considerable freedom in who she chose to have a relationship with.

"Do you think they're in love?"

"I don't know," Johnny replied honestly. "Sometimes, I think it's like more of a playground relationship. They'll play tetherball together until he pulls her pigtails and makes her cry. Did I just severely date myself by mentioning tetherball? Is that sport even legal in this state anymore?"

"I have no idea."

"I hope they're not in love," he sighed again. "It would make things so much more complicated. Love and all that."

Jason shot him a strange look. "Well, you can't really help who you love."

Johnny straightened. "…You don't honestly believe that, do you?"

"Of course I do," he replied immediately. "What, you don't?"

He shook his head. "Nope. It wasn't like that for me at all. I didn't love Nadine when I met her. I didn't love her when I slept with her. I didn't even love her on the day I made her my wife."

Jason's lips parted in surprise. He had always heard how smitten Johnny and Nadine were around each other, how they were living proof that a mafia man could have it all. "I thought you guys were…happy."

Johnny grinned at that. "Well, of course we are. Very happy. I've spent the happiest years of my life with Nadine, no question about it. I can't imagine loving her more. But my point is that it wasn't instant. It didn't just happen. We worked at it. We worked very hard. Love isn't something that just happens, that you just wake up one morning, look at someone, and fall for them. It happens over time. Nadine and I – we made it work. I fell in love with her gradually. I started out by taking care of her. Protecting her, providing for her, listening to her. Finding out what she liked, what made her feel good and content, and doing that. I learned different things about her, I sacrificed certain things, and she did the same. We took care of each other that way, 

and that was how we came to love each other. It certainly wasn't instant, and it certainly wasn't out of our control. We made a conscious decision to love each other."

Jason shook his head slowly. "That hasn't been my experience."

Johnny shrugged. "It's different for different folks, I'd have to say. And to be honest, I can't see Jake consciously making a decision to love my daughter. With that in mind, I have to be leery of their possible relationship and what it means."

They looked back over at the kids. Jake was trying to get up and Amalia wasn't too keen on letting him. She wrinkled her nose and propped herself up long enough for him to slip out. Morgan, who was standing next to his sister, took his spot and draped his arm on the back of the couch and around her shoulders just like Jake had, and Amalia relaxed against him and Cecily continued.

Jason looked back at Johnny as Jake slipped off, unseen, to discuss something with Spencer on the terrace. "Well, maybe you don't have to be too worried yet."

"I'd like to believe that," Johnny replied gruffly, watching Jake cast one last look at his daughter before he joined Spencer. "But I can't."


	35. Attempts at Love

**Note – **The cheat codes are alive and well, I posted a mini-promo yesterday on Youtube called "Take Me Away," and I have a new spoiler forum for stories at Solo Ensemble which includes Mean spoilers for a few upcoming chapters. Although, now that I think of it, two of those spoilers are debunked with this chapter. Heh. Poor planning there on my part. Also, we are soooooo damn close to the reveal! It's in either 36 or 37, with 35 being nothing but groundwork for that scenario. And as promised, a Liason coffee date.

**-Mean-**

**-34-**

_My attempts at love_

_Are not worth speaking of._

_But, my dear friend,_

_I'll try again._

-- "Pray Forgive Me These Mistakes," Sherwood

**.: Amalia's Bedroom, 235 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

Her bare feet shuffled over the carpet as Amalia Zacchara, clad in a pair of drawstring shorts and a t-shirt, walked back into her bedroom. She hoped that when she entered this time after brushing her teeth and washing her face, he would be gone.

But a quick glance to her left showed that he wasn't.

Jake's heavy-lidded stare found her instantly in the dimly lit bedroom, and he tapped his knuckles on the window again. "Amalia, open the window."

She could hear him through the bullet-proof glass, but only barely, and that made it far easier to ignore him, which was what she'd been trying to do for the past half hour. Damn that boy for being so persistent.

"Lia, come on."

She sat down at her vanity table and picked up her pearl hair brush. Parting her hair in the middle, she began to brush it in smooth, long strokes. Over and over and over. Because she knew that ritual annoyed Jake to no end.

"Amalia." He rapped on the window again. "It's been more than a week. You're not returning my calls or my emails or anything. Just open the damn window and talk to me."

She set down her brush and picked up her cold cream, using two fingers to dab it on just under her eyes.

"I'll break it," he vowed. "I'll break the window. Fucking damn it…"

He cut off abruptly and looked away, and she could see him trying to tamp down his frustration on the other side of the glass. Getting angry with her never got him anywhere. Whenever he got angry and started cussing, she would just ignore him – like she was doing now – and wouldn't even acknowledge him until he calmed down and spoke politely.

"Amalia, please, open the window. I didn't mean it."

He could see her hand falter in mid-air as she set the cream down, but it wasn't good enough.

"Look, I was just…frustrated. About the dock strike. We were way over our budget with no end in sight and…look, I didn't mean it. You know that I always end up taking your advice when you offer it, anyway."

That was true, actually. She rarely gave him advice at all, so when she did, Jake was smart enough to realize that it was truly important and listened.

That was the foundation of their relationship, it seemed: limits. They existed together just fine until one of them pushed the limits, causing the other to sit up and take notice in either a good or bad way.

Amalia was more than familiar with Jake's moods and knew how to weather them as well as Cameron and Morgan did. When Jake was surly, she left him alone. When he was excited, she let him babble on and on and just listened. When he was content, she shared that. When he was angry, she ignored him if she couldn't help him through it. When he was sad, she held him. And when he was being a jackass, she told him so.

Theirs was such a give-and-take relationship. As much as Jake liked to take, he was actually surprisingly good at giving, too. Molly had been Amalia's closest friend since childhood, but there were times when she wondered if she'd ever feel as close to the youngest Cassidine as she did to Jake. There were times when he got her, really got her, so much so that she could swear he was looking into her, that they were one and the same in that moment. When her father drove her nuts, he was there. When she just wanted to run away, he had the car keys. And when she was sad, he always came up with all sorts of trouble for them to get into together.

Even his crass behavior couldn't spoil the way she felt about him. For every callous remark he made in public, she had three instances of when he was the sweetest, most devoted guy around. In a strange way, she understood his need to compensate. After all, she was the one to usually see him when he was the most vulnerable. She'd seen him cry often enough, and sat through all those awful spells with him, and that was huge for a guy like Jake who was so focused on making sure he presented the right image of himself to other people: the image of the macho man that always had the answers. So when he made glib remarks to her, she almost understood that as his way of compensating for all those times he let her in. But that still didn't prevent her from smacking him upside the head and telling him to grow the hell up.

Amalia rose from her seat at the vanity and crossed over to the closet. It was going to be a cool night, and she could feel Jake's eyes on her as she reached into the closet and pulled out a 

blanket. It was fluffy green one that she knew he recognized almost instantly. After he and Morgan became partners in the business, Jake convinced her to spend a long weekend with him, just the two of them, camping out at the foot of the Catskills. She had been reluctant to leave her blow-dryer and her shower with the hot water and heated tiles, so he sweetened the deal by bringing along a sleeping bag for two, a fuzzy green blanket, and a bottle of her favorite wine. They spent two days and two nights under the stars, with nothing to do but enjoy each other's company.

"Lia, please. I'm sorry."

Amalia sighed and pitched the blanket onto her bed, then padded over to her window. She sank down on the cushioned seat and pushed it open, shooting him a bland look. "What?"

Jake Morgan, wearing black dress pants and a white collared shirt, sat on her roof. "Hey."

She folded her arms on the sill and didn't say anything.

Jake tugged on his ear, a habit he'd unknowingly picked up from his father. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it."

"You said it," she pointed out dryly. "And you rarely say things you don't mean."

"I say things I don't mean all the time," he smirked. "Just yesterday, I told Jason that it was good to see him."

Amalia didn't even dignify that with a roll of her eyes. "I have to go to bed."

"Lia." He bit his lip, looking as if he didn't quite know how to say what he knew he had to. "I'm sorry. It was something I said out of frustration, and I shouldn't have taken that out on you."

She didn't reply, but her eyes told him that he usually did, anyway.

Jake sighed and ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the neatly combed back strands and giving himself a shaggier, scruffier look. "It's just…the strike is still on. You already know that. And we ate through our budget to pay salaries and it's taking some fancy bookkeeping to make sure that we can keep it up. If we dip into the off-shore funds to pay the salaries for the workers that already worked for us, the Feds move in. If we use the money we pay taxes on to pay for the workers that we hired after the strike started, the Feds move in. To say nothing of how frustrating the simple fact that I miscalculated is."

The moonlight shone down on him, casting half his face in milky light and the other in darkness. "You were right. What you said – about it being time to finally walk into those negotiations and start making some threats to speed this up. You were right, and that's what I did. We'll see a resolution by the end of the week, and it'll be business again as usual."

He sighed again and turned to her. "Lia, I didn't mean it. What I said – I really didn't mean it. You have to know that. I don't – I don't look at you and just see a – a spoiled mob princess or whatever. I know that you know what you're talking about, and I'm sorry I made you feel like you didn't."

What he actually did was tell her that she was a girl, and as such, no one really expected her to inherit her father's assets and run them, anyway. It was the truth, but it was still a very callous way to state it, and Amalia had taken immediate offense at the implications.

"I'm a very patient person," she started slowly, rolling each word out carefully. "I get that from my mother. It takes a lot to upset her, and I'm the same way. People often mistake that for weakness."

His eyes widened. "Amalia-"

"And I have to wonder," she continued, neatly cutting him off, "if you're the same way. It's always been like this, Jake. You're afraid of how much I know about you, how many intimate things you've told me, so you mouth off. You make jokes, most of them sexist, you're flippant, and you're an overall jerk. And somehow, you think that none of it matters. It matters to me, because I already have one man in my life who's quick to remind me of the fact that I'm a girl, with all the limitations implied therein, and I don't need another."

Amalia shook her head as he gaped at her, stunned beyond words. "What do you honestly expect to happen, Jake? What do you honestly expect to come out of what you say to me sometimes?"

He lowered his gaze, his bottom lip pulled into his mouth, and finally reached out and firmly closed his hand over hers. She looked up at him, surprised, and this time his gaze was clear and even.

"I expect you to be the same woman you've been all your life," he stated quietly. "The one that I can come to when things are bad. The one that will always tell me the truth and give me the best counsel. The one that will always support me, always defend me even if I don't deserve it. The one that will always believe there's something good in me."

He sighed again and looked away, their fingers still linked. "The one person that will be there when I've alienated every single other person in my life. My mother, with the business and heartache she'll eventually deal with. My brother, with my cynicism and single-mindedness. Jason. Even Morgan, with my bossiness and need to control everything."

When he looked back at her, Amalia couldn't remember a time when his eyes had been more vivid, more arresting, and she felt herself being pulled in by them. "Even when I've pushed all of them away, you'll still be there for me if I need you, because you're built that way just like I'm built to push people away. And even though I hate the fact, I will _always_ need you in ways you can't even imagine."

Her lips parted in surprise and Amalia stared at him, speechless, but the moment was interrupted by his father.

"Jake." They looked down to see Johnny Zacchara dressed in his black robe over his pajamas, standing in the yard. He looked more amused than irritated, but then again, her father was rarely irritated with Jake Webber. "You think you're going to get off my roof any time soon, son?"

Jake bit his lip as he looked down at him, and finally nodded. "Yeah. Yeah."

He looked back at her, his gaze unreadable. "What you once said, about us always testing our limits with each other - you were wrong. Maybe I don't want to push this until it breaks."

His hand slid away from hers, robbing her of its warmth, and Jake didn't meet her gaze again as he lowered himself down the side of the house until he could safely drop to the grass below. Johnny waited as he walked over to him, and Amalia could see them exchange words in the yard. Her father gestured to the house, almost certainly inviting Jake in to see her over coffee or tea, but Jake just shook his head, slipped his hands into his pockets, and walked across the street to 234 Cherry Blossom where his mother was already fast asleep.

* * *

**.: The Coffee Shop :.**

The mob didn't operate here anymore.

That was what Jason always found himself thinking whenever he entered the Coffee Shop. He and Sonny had their offices back there but these days, that room generally went unused. Kristina had set up shop there when the historic home housing her offices was being fumigated, but she had cleared out the day before yesterday and gone back.

The first person he saw when he walked into the place was Elizabeth. She was dressed in scrubs from the hospital and had a latte in one hand as she flipped through a trashy magazine with the other, trying to decompress before returning back to work.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw her, but the jingle of the bells above the door gave him away. Elizabeth looked up, and for a second his stunned expression matched hers, but then she relaxed and flashed him a small smile.

"Hey."

"Hey," he replied, slowly easing forward a step. The barista already knew how he took his coffee and was preparing it for him. "I, uh, I didn't mean to – you, um-"

Elizabeth waved him forward, gesturing to the empty seat across from her. "Sit?"

Jason blinked. "…You don't mind?"

She shook her head as he crossed the rest of the distance between them. The barista handed Jason his coffee and when he withdrew behind the counter again, Elizabeth shrugged. "Well, I figure it's kind of pointless to go out of our way to avoid each other in public now that Jake's…you know. The local godfather."

Jason bobbed his head and kept his hands in his lap. It still made him uncomfortable to speak openly about that, even though the change had been made so long ago. "Yeah. How, um, how are you dealing with that? It's better now, isn't it?"

She pinched her lips inward just slightly. "I'm still scared to the bone for him. Just like I used to be scared for you."

He watched her slowly spin her coffee cup around on the table. "Jake… _is_ you, more than he'll ever realize. He kills people. He doesn't talk about it, but I know he does. He kills people now, and he plots for land and money. The paper ran a whole thing about what he did during the dock workers' strike, and how it wasn't legal, and how the IRS could have prosecuted him if-"

"The paper doesn't have the most reputable sources," Jason reminded her. "If you believed them, then Sonny was a long-lost Quartermaine, Claudia Zacchara left town and gave birth to my twins, and…and Emily spent the last twenty-five years hiding out from Nikolas and living in a cottage in Canada."

He shook his head. "Even multiple lawsuits haven't taught those idiots a lesson."

Elizabeth spared him a wry look. "That sounded a lot like an evasion. Know how I could tell?"

Jason stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights, knowing he was caught. "…How?"

The corner of her mouth curled up sadly. "That's exactly what Jake told me when I mentioned it."

He averted his gaze. "Sorry. I, uh…"

"No, it's okay," Elizabeth was quick to assure him. "I understand. Code of the business and all that, never give anything away. Believe me, I get it."

She sighed again and swirled her latte in the cup. The whipped cream had long since melted and now sat on top of the blended coffee drink, thick and foamy. "You know, he scares people now. Did I ever tell you about what happened at the hospital?"

Jason shook his head. "What?"

"It happened a while ago," she started. "We treated a man who had an allergic reaction to gabapentin. He sued us and Jake walked in on him threatening me, Patrick, and Leyla. All he did 

was shake the man's hand, smile at him, and drop his name and the guy looked like he was going to pass out. He's so good at scaring people."

Jason watched her rub her eyes, and she looked a lot more tired than he remembered. "And it's amazing to me how much he's changed. But at the same time, all I have to do is watch him with Cam and Morgan and the other kids and…I don't know."

She shrugged, her eyes distant. "He and Morgan are so close, like brothers. They'd give their lives for each other. He's still so devoted to me, he looks up to Cameron like you wouldn't believe, and sometimes he does things or says things that are just so sweet that it's like he hasn't changed at all, like he's still my little boy."

Jason swallowed thickly. "This change in – in Jake. Has it been so…significant or radical since he took the business on?"

It would have broken his heart if his son became dark and angry after stepping into his world, the mob world. It would be undeniable proof of what that life did to a person.

Elizabeth was still considering this. "No, not like that, I don't think. Some of the qualities he's showing now – well, they're more apparent because of the work he does now, but they were always there. Does that make sense? Like…let me think how I can explain it better. When he was younger, a teenager, he was pretty good at talking his way out of the messes he got himself into. He always saw his advantage with another person and tried to use it if it could get him off the hook. He does that now, too, but on a much bigger level than before. So even though he's changed because of the business, a lot of those things, I think, were already there. Does that make sense?"

Jason nodded, and she continued. "I guess what I'm saying is…it's still so hard for me to reconcile the idea or the vision of my sweet little boy with – with one of the most powerful men on the East Coast. Soon the country, if I know anything about how ambitious he is."

She tapped her nails on the table, smiling at him idly. "You know, he's more ambitious than you were when you ran the business. You were concerned about defending what was yours. From what I heard, you only moved on someone else's territory when that person proved to be a danger to you, the business, or that way of life. Other than that, you ran your own, tight operation. Jake's not like that. He wants more. Always more. He's always thinking about how he can edge out a little farther, how he can go one step higher, how he can make his name a little more well known, how he can gain even the smallest advantage."

"Sonny and I were like that when we became partners, in the beginning," Jason admitted. It felt very strange to be discussing things about the business like this with her, but Elizabeth was right: this was all very much after the fact. "I think it's something that a lot of men in this lifestyle go through. In the beginning they want more. More land, more money, more power, a bigger place to carve out as their own. When they start running it, really running it, they realize how much work and manpower it takes and become reluctant to stretch themselves too thin."

He shrugged. "It's what happened with the Zacchara family. Anthony and Claudia always wanted more, and I'm sure Claudia would have kept going if she hadn't killed her father and had to flee the country. Johnny, he was smarter than that. Especially when he got married and started raising his daughter. He knew that the best way to keep everything stable was to just manage what he had and clearly draw the lines around it. It worked for him."

Elizabeth heard the regret in his voice, but didn't draw any more attention to that matter. "It worries me, you know. How deeply he's involved in the business. At first, I thought that he was only going to be Morgan's partner. That he'd just sign off on whatever Morgan wanted." She let out a sardonic laugh. "I even hoped that he could keep his job with Jacks while being a partner. Stupid, right?"

Jason didn't say anything. He didn't blame her one bit for wanting to hold onto such delusions at that time.

"But he's…" She struggled to come up with the words and gestured with her hands, her palms facing up, as if she were trying to physically grapple with what this all meant. "He's involved. He's in this, Jason. He's all in. And it really, really worries me."

Elizabeth bit her lip and looked up at him. "I-I've been thinking more and more about…about what would happen if we told Jake the truth. Now. If we told him the truth about…" She lowered her voice and leaned forward. "About who his father is."

Jason's eyes widened, and, seeing that, she hurried on. "I think that maybe we should tell him. Maybe it would help him, put things in perspective. His – His relationship with Lucky is really strained. It has been since he became partner, even before that, actually. They don't talk much anymore. Not at all, really."

She fiddled with her coffee cup. "When Jake first became a partner in the business, I told Lucky. I wanted him to hear it from me instead of anyone else. I asked him to come over so that we could talk to Jake together. I – I was hoping that we could sit down and just talk about it calmly, like a fam-"

Elizabeth stopped herself from saying 'family' and rushed on. "Just that we could sit down together and talk about it calmly. Lucky was fine when he got there, he was calm when he talked to me about how dangerous this was and how it put him and his – him and Jake on opposite sides of the law. So I was hopeful that together, we could talk to Jake and put up a united front and fix it. And then Jake walked into the house and Lucky just lost it. He started yelling and Jake was in no mood for it so he started yelling back. Really hurtful things, too. I was so afraid that Jake was going to hit Lucky. I don't even know how I managed to stop them and separate them."

She shook her head, still pained by that memory. "Lucky's made it very clear that he doesn't approve of Jake's partnership with Morgan, and Jake tells him the same thing you used to say: that all he does is run a coffee business. All the rest is gossip and tall tales.

"And, besides…" She peeked up at him, her eyes hopeful and bright. "Maybe he'd be more inclined to take your opinion seriously and stop doing reckless things with the business and stop - stop trying so hard to rise up and do all this if he knew that you were his father and that all the advice you gave him was in his best interest, because you loved him and wanted him to stay safe. Maybe…Maybe you'd be a calming influence on him."

He'd progressively shut down as she started talking about how Jake and Lucky didn't get along, and how it might be a good time to tell Jason the truth, and that was why Jason was surprised when he was able to shake his head and eke out, "I don't think so, Elizabeth."

He shook his head again, more firmly this time. "We can't – we can't just spring this on him now. He's a grown man. He's lived his whole life thinking that – thinking that Lucky Spencer was his father. We can't tell him now that he's not. He's a strong kid, but it would destroy him. He'd lash out, even worse than anything we've seen before. Now that he's in a position of incredible power, his lashing out means that more people stand to get hurt by him. Including Jake."

Elizabeth's eyes glimmered with tears as Jason shook his head one last time. "No. We can't. He'd hate us. I could stand him hating me, but he'd hate you, too, for keeping that from him all his life. No, this is one secret that has to be buried."

"Besides." He rolled his shoulders. "I'll be gone one day, and I'll take it to my grave. And then it won't matter anyway, because it will all be done."


	36. When You're Not Strong

**Note – **I misspoke last time. The reveal will be one chapter or so later than what I said before. I didn't notice a little comment/note when I was looking at my outline. At any rate, the reveal happens before we hit the Chapter 40 mark. Enjoy.

**-Mean-**

**-35-**

_Lean on me_

_When you're not strong._

-- "Lean on Me," Various Artists

**.: Alley behind Kelly's :.**

Gravel bit into his cheek and Jason groaned, feeling two hands fist the lapels of his leather jacket. Everything was hot and cold at the same time, and the world was thick and blurry. The light hurt, sending a lance of fire straight into his head, so he kept his eyes closed. His leg felt cold and wet, meaning that either he'd tripped and fallen into a puddle, or that one of the bullets that had come whizzing at him actually hit its mark.

He groaned again when whoever it was that wanted him to get up, clearly not knowing how everything exploded in bursts of pain when he moved, tried to hoist him up. His head felt like a rock, so heavy, and he felt like he was fading in and out.

Jake snarled and half-propped him up, struggling to keep him upright. "Damn it, Jason, I said, can you hear me?"

Jason mumbled something incoherent, wincing and trying to squirm away when his son pressed a finger just under his left eye and pushed downward, trying to get a look at his pupil.

"You hit your head," he muttered, checking with Chase and Penn to make sure the coast was clear. He had been walking to the warehouse when he heard gunshots further down the docks and ran to investigate. It didn't take him long to find his father lying on the ground with a long tear in the sleeve of his leather jacket.

"Come on, we have to get you out of here."

"Where do we go?" Penn wanted to know, his gun engaged as he scanned the alleys and rooftops quickly. "We're completely exposed if we head that way."

"We could take the alleys to the warehouse," Chase suggested.

Jake shook his head and looked down at his father. "It'll take too long. Too much exertion for him. We have to find somewhere close. Jason. Jason! Damn it, just open your damn eyes and help me get you up."

Jason grimaced and tried to get his bearings. Jake took off the gray scarf he had around his neck and wrapped it loosely so that it shielded Jason's eyes from the moonlight and the lone streetlight close to the end of the alleyway. That helped considerably, and Jason was able to somewhat get his bearings and bear some of his own weight.

"Where…are we?"

"The docks," Jake replied, grunting as he rose to his feet, Jason's arm slung over his neck. He supported his father's weight as best he could while Chase and Penn flanked them. "Someone tried to waste you. We have to get out of here. There's nowhere to go but the warehouse, so you're going to have to hold on-"

"No," Jason got out. "I know a…place. That – way."

"Through there?" Jake looked at the guards, and Chase quickly moved forward to lead the way. "Okay, come on. Look, just – just lean on me. And for fuck's sake, stay conscious long enough to tell us where we're going."

"That way," he murmured, trying to ignore the fiery pain in his other arm as it moved while they walked. "That…building."

"This place?" Penn looked up and around. "These are just old apartments. The front door's on Elm."

"Back door – right there," Jason grunted. "Through…there."

"You sure?" Jake didn't look convinced. "It doesn't look like-"

"Safe place," his father interrupted. "Up there."

Somehow, the men managed to get him through the back door, which Penn easily jimmied open, and up three flights of stairs, and Jake still had Jason's arm wound securely around his neck as he helped him down the hall.

"You own one of these?"

"That one." Jason pointed. "Keys – have them-"

"Don't worry about it." Penn moved forward and tried to repeat the same trick even as Jason continued searching for his keys. "Damn it…"

"Here."

The guard turned and found Jason offering him the correct key. He took it sheepishly. "Damn steel barricade…"

Chase stayed outside as Penn shoved the heavy steel door open and helped Jake get Jason inside. They headed straight for the old couch by the wall and Jason practically collapsed onto it, groaning from the exertion. Jake sighed and pushed himself to his feet. When he looked at Penn, his loyal guard nodded and pulled out his phone, already turning to leave the room.

Jake looked around the dark, dingy studio apartment. "This your place or something?"

"Or something," Jason muttered, managing to lift a hand over his eyes. His injured arm was limp on the sofa. "Mmm…"

"Whoa." Jake was at his side in a flash and shook his shoulder. "Don't fall asleep. I think you might have hit your head when you fell – you might have a concussion or something. Stay awake."

He saw the dark spot on the maroon fabric and swore. "Shit, you're bleeding. There any medical supplies around here? Something I can cut your sleeve off with?"

"Call a doctor," Jason murmured, his eyes closing again. "Call…Elizabeth."

Jake's lips thinned. "Someone's on their way. You in a lot of pain? I don't know if I should give you anything with a concussion…"

His fingers twitched in the best dismissive wave he could manage. "S'fine. I'll be fine."

"I bet you always say that," Jake grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. He hated feeling useless, and thought there might be at least something he could do before help arrived. Maybe he could keep his father engaged and awake just in case he did have a concussion.

"So you never told me how you knew about this place," he said loudly, lowering his voice just a little when Jason winced. "One of your safe houses? So wouldn't Morgan own it or something?"

Jason shook his head. "Belonged to…your mother when she was younger…than you."

Jake's eyes widened and he stared at him in disbelief. "My mother? _My_ mother? She lived here?"

His heart sank as Jason nodded, and Jake swept a gaze around the room. The window was dirty and grimy, the kind of dirt and grime that never came off no matter how hard it was scrubbed. It wasn't installed correctly, either, and was letting the cold air seep in through the sides. The bricks were crumbling, there was a tiny hole in the wall that barely passed as a closet, there was barely room to turn around, and a rusty hot plate sat plugged in on the counter.

This was where his mother lived when she was a young woman. This was where she had to live.

Jason's eyes were starting to close, so he didn't see the heartbroken look on his son's place. "She let me…hide out here once."

"You hid out here?" There was no mistaking the edge to Jake's voice. "You were a mobster and you put her in danger like that? By hiding out here from your enemies?"

His voice was starting to slur again. "Twice. Got shot…once in the side…once in the leg. She hid me here."

Jake was at the sink, his back turned away from Jason, as he looked at the broken fixtures. He just couldn't picture his mother living here…probably because he didn't want to.

"She…hid me here when she was pregnant with you. I…didn't know…"

He closed his eyes. "Didn't know she was pregnant, or that I was yours?"

Jason's eyes opened a crack. "…What?"

"I said, you didn't know she was pregnant?"

They closed again wearily. "I knew. I…think I knew all along…felt it…wanted…"

He groaned and brought a hand to his injured arm. Jake crouched down beside him, not letting him see how bad it was.

"Just hang on," he repeated, clasping his father's hand and trying to rouse him. "Look, just hang on, okay? Help will be here real soon, and you'll be fine."

"Boss."

The door had opened a crack and Penn poked his head in. "He's here."

"Let him in," Jake ordered, still crouching by the side of the couch as his brother entered. "See, Jason, what did I-"

When he looked down at him, Jason's eyes were closed and he was silent.

* * *

"…Elizabeth?"

He looked up in surprise when Jason spoke, and his smile was gentle as he finished dressing the wound. "Cameron."

Jason's brows furrowed in confusion. "Cam…?"

"You're going to be just fine," he said, repeating Jake's words from earlier but with the added air of a physician. "You have a slight concussion, so you'll need to take it easy. I'd prescribe bed rest for a few days, but I know that's unlikely so I'll leave it at that. You had a nasty bump on 

your head from where you hit what was probably the edge of the dumpster from what Jake was saying, so I iced that a bit and the swelling's gone down. I have some acetaminophen that will help with the pain. And as for your arm…"

He fastened the bandage and made sure it was secure. "Flesh wound. The bandages need to be changed regularly and I'd like to fit you with a sling, but other than that, you'll be fine. Besides, I imagine this is something of a standard procedure for you anyway."

He didn't say it with any malice, and he certainly didn't intend any, but it was still strange for Jason to hear the man he'd known since he was a curly-haired little boy talking so easily about wounds and gunshots and all that.

"Jake?"

"He's not here," Cameron replied lightly, rising to his feet after a moment's hesitation. He made his way to the sink and began to carefully wash his hands. "He left not long after I got here. You lost consciousness. He said…"

He glanced over his shoulder at Jason. "He said that someone had obviously been trying to gauge your importance to the Corinthos-Webber organization and took shots at you. He went to deal with it."

The euphemism came so easily from him, and Jason could only blink. "He…went to deal with it?"

"Well, sure." Cameron filled a cup with cool tap water and walked back to his bag, drawing out a bottle of pain relievers. Jason, who hated taking pills, didn't put up a fuss as Elizabeth's oldest son shook two loose. Cameron set the water on the floor and slipped a hand under Jason's head, gently propping him up. He offered him the pills and held the cup to his lips, waiting until he'd had enough before letting him rest again.

"He's going to find out who was trying to take you out and deal with them," Cameron continued evenly. There was conviction in his voice and a hard glint in his eyes as he added, "Jake wouldn't let anything happen to you. Especially because of who you are to him."

His mind was fuzzy and his thoughts swam together, and Jason was almost positive he read too much into the young man's words. "Who I am?"

The doctor nodded. "Sure. You're the former head of the organization. He calls you the Lone Wolf."

This was new to him. "What?"

"The Lone Wolf," Cameron repeated. "From _The Jungle Book_ by Kipling. Mom got me and Jake into that sort of thing, used to read to us from "Rikki Tikki Tavi" when we were kids. Akela was the Lone Wolf, the former leader of the pack. He was off-limits."

He shrugged. "Just like you. Jake wouldn't let any of your enemies take advantage of the fact that you no longer run the business. He wanted to put protection on you his first day, like he did with me and Mom, but he knew you always took your security on yourself so he didn't even try."

He rose to his feet, picking up the half-empty glass of water. "I want you to take it easy. Don't move that arm around much. I have to get back to the hospital before my 6:00 consult finds out I'm not there, but I'll be back by the end of my shift with a sling that will hopefully make you a little more comfortable. Jake said he'd be back as soon as possible, and he left one of his guards outside your doors. My guess is that he'll make sure you're back at Harborview Towers tonight and out of…this place."

Jason watched Cameron look around the tiny studio apartment, a sad little grimace making his lips curl.

"You know, I can't imagine my mother here," he said softly. "I really just don't want to see her here."

* * *

**.: Penthouse 4, Harborview Towers :.**

"Sonny, I'm trusting you with him."

The former mob lord would have been almost amused by Cameron's stern look, so reminiscent of the one Elizabeth used, if he wasn't so worried about Jason's condition.

"He's in no shape to be running around," Cameron continued as Jake helped his father onto the couch. Once Jason was seated, Jake carefully removed his leather jacket, adjusted the sling underneath, and tossed the jacket onto the back of the couch. "With his concussion, I want to put him on bed rest. A couple days of taking it easy, not exerting himself too much, and he'll be fine. That arm will take a little longer to heal, naturally, and you'll want to have someone on hand to change the bandages."

"I already made arrangements for that," Sonny assured him. "What else do I need to know?"

"These pills are for the pain." Cameron handed him the bottle. "The dosage should be fine, but, Jason, if you need more, you'll have to come to me so I can prescribe them. Get plenty of rest, drink plenty of fluids-"

"Does coffee count?" Spinelli wanted to know. Sonny had called him just as soon as Jake had called Sonny to explain the situation and let him know that Jason was on his way back to Harborview. "He drinks a lot of coffee."

Cameron shook his head as Jason scowled at his former roommate, already a little irritated with Sonny and Spinelli's hen-pecking ways when he was injured. "I want him to avoid coffee, tea, energy drinks, anything with that much sugar and caffeine. You can go back to drinking them after you're better, but I really do want you to avoid them for now."

It was hard for him to tell Jason anything in terms of direct orders, even though Cameron dealt with a multitude of different patients every day. It was probably something about the fact that this was Jake's dad, his own almost-father, and there was something just a little off about the whole situation.

Jason understood his discomfort and was quick to reassure him. "It's fine. I won't drink coffee. I don't drink any of that other stuff, anyway."

"Just water, plain old water," Spinelli affirmed, as if making a mental note. "Oh, and we have a fruit juice made from nineteen different fruits, including a rare Brazilian berry…"

Cameron arched a brow. "I don't know about rare Brazilian berries. Just keep him hydrated, that's all. And make sure you rest, Jason, I can't stress that enough. For your arm and your head."

He nodded. "Fine. Thanks, Cameron. Jake."

"Call me if there's a problem or if you have any questions," Cameron told the three men. "You have my cell. Goodnight, everyone."

Sonny shook his hand and Spinelli walked him out to the elevator, and then looked over at his best friend's son. "So, uh, about the situation…"

"It's been handled," Jake replied smoothly. "Or, rather, it's being handled. Just watch the news tomorrow morning."

Jason's eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

He shrugged. "Obviously, someone was testing my good will toward you two. If it hadn't been you they took shots at, it would have been Sonny, just to see how valued you two are even though you're not a part of the business anymore."

Sonny bristled inwardly at that, but kept his mouth shut. There was hardly anything left to say anymore.

Jake slipped his hands into his pocket. "They thought they'd take out the man that preceded me in this business. So I took out that man…and all those that would stand to succeed him in his business."

He shrugged again, smirking. "Seemed fair enough. And with a smacking of Greek tragedy. You can't lose."

"Greek tragedy?"

"One of the Greek tragedies – can't remember which – it's said that if you're going to kill the father, you'd be stupid not to kill the son. Makes perfect sense to me."

He turned back to Jason. "You're going to do what Cam said, right?"

"I'll be fine," he replied, sick of repeating it over and over. "…Thank you. For everything."

"Great," Jake murmured, backing away and heading for the door. Sonny clapped him on the back as he passed. "Just get better. Oh."

He stopped and grabbed onto the doorjamb, poking his head back into the penthouse. "One last question. We telling Mom about this or what?"

Jason closed his eyes, smirking, and remembered the incident on the docks when his boy was just seventeen. Even though he never told Elizabeth about that particular event, he wasn't going to bother to try to hide this injury if they happened to meet. "You can go now."

Jake grinned. "Just wanted to make sure we got our stories straight. Goodnight."


	37. Cause In My Head

**Note – **Long lyric. But hey, come on, it's freaking Death Cab for Cutie.

**-Mean-**

**-36-**

_I want to live where soul meets body_

_And let the sun wrap its arms around me_

_And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing_

_And feel_

_Feel what it's like to be new._

'_Cause in my head, there's a Greyhound station_

_Where I send my thoughts to far-off destinations_

_So they may have a chance of finding a place_

_Where they're far more suited than here._

-- "Soul Meets Body," Death Cab For Cutie

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

"Hand me the wrench again?"

Elizabeth picked it up off the towel and passed it to him. "You didn't get it?"

She could see him shake his head. "Nope. Damn rusted pipes – that's it. I'm calling someone to have these replaced by tomorrow morning. Soon as I get this out…"

It was after dinner and her son had emptied out the little cabinet under the sink, braced a small platform in front of it for his back, and crawled under to fiddle with the pipes. His tools sat on the floor next to him, and Elizabeth was also seated cross-legged on the tiles by his feet.

"So…" She drummed her fingers on her knees. "I saw Jason at the hospital today."

Jake's knee continued to sway back and forth rhythmically as he worked the elbow joint. "Did you?"

Elizabeth nodded even though he couldn't see her. "He told me what happened to his arm. What you did for him."

His socked toes tapped the clean tiles. "Ah."

"That's it?"

The clinking under the sink stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Monosyllabic answers." She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. "Weren't you going to tell me what happened?"

The platform slid against the tiles as Jake came out from under the sink, his brows furrowed. "Why? What happened, happened to him, not to me, so why would I say anything about it to you? What's he to you, anyway?"

Of course, she had no answer for him. Jake knew this, and he slid back under the sink when met with her silence.

"It was just a shock to see him," Elizabeth shrugged, continuing on. "With his arm in a sling and everything. He said that you saved his life, and I had no idea…"

"Well, I don't tell you everything, Mom. I can't."

"I know," she sighed. She'd been there before with his father, and now history was cruelly repeating itself. "So…can you tell me now?"

"It's probably the same thing he told you." His voice filtered out from the cabinet. He tossed the wrench out and grunted. "I was walking to the warehouse, heard shots. Doubled 'round back, found him on the floor. He hit his head and was shot in the arm. He told us where to take him, and once we were there and safe, I called Cam. He fixed him up, then we took him back to his place. That's all."

She could almost hear him hesitate, and the clinking stopped. "He took us to your old studio."

A soft smile touched her lips, and Elizabeth couldn't believe it. "My studio? He took you there?"

"Yeah." His knee, the one that swayed idly as he worked on her sink, stilled. "…You never told us about that place."

"Well, I don't tell you boys everything."

His laughter echoed in the confined space. "Touché, Ma."

"I can't believe…" She shook her head, still smiling. "I let the lease lapse when you were about a year old. I could barely make payments on the house and take care of all of us – I didn't need that old place, anyway. He still has a key to it, then?"

"I think he owns it," Jake replied, tinkering around some more. "Broken windows, rusted fixtures, red couch, crumbling bricks, stupid hot plate and all."

He couldn't see her eyes fill with tears. "The red couch – it's still there?"

"Yeah, it's still there. He bled all over it."

"Twice before, too," Elizabeth murmured.

Jake's hand came to a rest on his stomach. "Mom…how come you never told us about that studio? That you had to live there, that awful place-"

"Awful?" She let out a little laugh despite herself. "Oh, honey, I loved that place."

"Ow." He got up too fast and hit his head on the plumbing before sliding out and gaping at her. "How could you love that place? It's – It's a hole in the wall! There's no heat, the floor's not finished, you barely have room to turn around. How could you love it?"

Elizabeth shrugged, still smiling at the thought of her little hiding place. "Because it was mine. Because I was free there."

Her son's eyes were guarded. "With Jason?"

"With Jason," she allowed. "With your father. By myself. It didn't matter what the studio was like, I loved it all the same because it was mine. I was so used to be shuffled around all my life, from place to place, and that studio was the first place that I picked out. I was inspired by it, that's why I painted there. It didn't matter if it was a hole in the wall, it was _my_ hole in the wall, and that was more than enough inspiration for me to paint and be free and live my life. I spent some of my happiest years there, before you boys came along."

He was biting his lip just like she was wont to do sometimes. "…How come you never painted here? Never painted again after that?"

Elizabeth felt herself flushing. "Well, there wasn't any particular reason, honey. I was just…busy. I had given up on my dreams of being a famous artist. Those dreams carried me when I was younger, sustained me. I didn't need anything else. I made some choices when Cameron came along, when you came along. I decided to settle down, get a regular job, one that would help me hold down a house. I don't regret those decisions."

Jake nodded and carefully slid back under the sink. It was just as he thought: he and his brother had been the reason for all that. He knew well enough that his mother would never even come close to resenting them for that, such a thing was impossible, but all the same it didn't sit right with him that he was part of the reason why she gave up what was once such a big part of her life.

"Maybe you should start again. You know, if you're…I don't know, inspired."

Elizabeth smiled sadly, watching him work. "Maybe."

She knew she wouldn't.

"Aha!" Jake slid out from the little cabinet with a triumphant grin. "Got it!"

Elizabeth held out her hand and he dropped the ring into her palm. "Oh, thank you, honey. I don't know what I would have done if I lost this. It belonged to your great-Gram, you know. She gave it to me before she died."

"It's the one Aunt Sarah always had her eye on," he grinned back, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "But she gave it to you instead."

Elizabeth slipped the ring back on her finger as her son used the wrench to once again tighten the elbow joint and stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He wrapped his tools up in the towel and picked them up, reaching out to snatch the phone from the counter.

"I'm calling someone to replace these pipes," he announced. "You need new ones. Brand new ones."

She didn't, but Elizabeth didn't argue. She just smiled.

"Okay, honey."

* * *

**.: Penthouse 2, Harborview Towers :.**

"So what are you going to do now that you've been cleared by Cameron?"

Jason rolled his eyes, smirking along with Sonny. "I don't know. Same thing I've been doing since…you know."

They didn't have a whole lot to do since Morgan and Jake took over. Sonny had various seats on town organizational boards, and he had his own hobbies like cooking and gardening, so he kept busy with that. Jason had his seat on the board of ELQ, so he still attended his meetings with Edward. Though he and his grandfather never saw eye to eye, Jason knew that the old man had been running ELQ very successfully since he started it, and Edward in turn knew of Jason's sound business sense concerning less than legal activities. On the few occasions they worked together, now that their old rivalry ceased to be of any relevance with the grandchildren all grown up and everyone else deceased, they made a good team.

"I was thinking…" Sonny paused and rubbed the corners of his mouth. "You could travel. You used to travel all the time before you worked with me full-time. You love traveling. Now there's nothing stopping you. You could get out, see the world again, just wander around like you used to."

"I don't think I could," he replied quietly. A lot had changed since those days. The last time he traveled the world like that, he was young and unattached. Now, he couldn't imagine leaving Port Charles, especially since Elizabeth, Cameron and his son were still here. "Don't really wanna go anyplace, anyway."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and both men looked over to see Jake and Morgan poke their heads in.

"Hey, Dad." Morgan didn't waste any time. "You wouldn't happen to have the information about the hospital's expansion project, would you? I was trying to find mine and thought I remembered lending it to you."

"You did," Sonny nodded. "It's in my office upstairs. You need it now?"

"Yeah. Meeting next week and I've gotta finish reading it. I'll be in D.C. almost all of this week, so I need to take it with."

"I'll get it for you," he replied. "And one more thing – I wanted to talk to you about this before you leave. Proposition 209."

Morgan arched a brow as Jake politely nodded hello to Jason. "What about it?"

"How could you not support it?" his father demanded. "I was at the town council meeting and someone told me you were fighting it tooth and nail and I didn't believe them."

"It's true, I'm very much opposed."

Sonny gaped at him. "It delivers funding to the local schools! Without it, the arts and music budget is halved, a full class is dropped from the schedule, and funding for sports is down by a third."

"There are other ways to structure that tax," Morgan informed him as Jake and Jason shared bland looks. They were more than used to father and son arguing about various town-related legal measures that Morgan was a very big part of. "The way it stands now, that 6 increase is only being demanded of those homeowners whose property is valued below 300,000. That's abominable."

"That's a miscalculation. And you got a solution, or you just planning to tear it down?"

"I'll have my associate fax you the calculation," his son retorted. "The figures are dead-on. And we do have a plan to fix it. Show up at the town meeting on the thirtieth, when we'll be opening this up for a debate. The vote will be the following week. Hopefully, you'll have all the information you need by then."

Sonny rolled his eyes. He liked it much better when _he_ got to talk down to people instead of the other way around. "I'll go get your papers."

"Thanks, Dad."

"No problem. We were about to go out for lunch, me and Jason. You boys want to join us?"

"Can't," Jake replied. "We've got work to do. Have a good afternoon, though."

Morgan frowned when his phone buzzed. "Excuse me. I'll take this in the kitchen."

Sonny watched his boy retreat, already on the phone with his associate, and took one last look at Jason and Jake before climbing up the rest of the stairs.

* * *

**.: Penthouse 2, Harborview Towers :.**

Jason hated it when Sonny and Morgan argued politics. Not because they were at each others' throats, just because it was boring. It was awful of him, but he participated very little in local politics and it boggled his mind how Morgan could want to be anywhere near that scene.

Jake looked similarly bored, but Jason knew better. His son was already planning on soon having his hand in almost everything in town. He was very much a part of the local political scene, mostly due to Morgan, and always took his best friend's advice about which council to join and which measures would best service their town. Though he was bored now in the discussion of it, Jason already knew that on voting day, Jake would not be supporting the measure that Morgan was so opposed to.

Morgan's phone buzzed and he fished it out of his pocket, frowning. "Excuse me. I'll take this in the kitchen."

Jake nodded and watched him leave, then slipped his hands into his pockets. "So. You got the sling off."

Jason nodded. "Yesterday."

"How's the arm?"

"Good, good."

Jake nodded and looked around the room. "Good."

He looked down, relieved, when his phone rang. "Excuse me. I'll, uh…" He looked around and gestured toward the balcony. "Be right out there."

Jason turned away as he headed toward the doors and stepped out into the sunshine to take the call. The door was still open a crack, so he could heal Jake's voice.

"What's up? Oh. Who'd your father try to introduce you to this time? Uh-huh. He owns what? Gee, high-class. What are you complaining about? He's tall, dark, somewhat handsome, and he owns a media empire. You two would be a good match."

It must have been Amalia, and Jason was surprised to hear Jake talk that way. He had been under the impression that the two of them were seeing each other, how ever casually, and this was strange.

He could hear his son laughing. "Don't forget to send me a Save the Date, okay? Shit, you're not going to make me be your maid of honor, are you?"

She must have gotten mad, because Jake's voice dropped, became gentler. Jason listened in, only feeling a little guilty. He hardly ever had a chance to hear Jake be gentle. He'd been good while he was shot and they were waiting for Cameron, but Jason had been in and out and only remembered that Jake was trying to keep him awake.

"Look, don't worry. He'd never make you do anything you didn't want to. Come on, he adores you. I know, I know it's frustrating. Tell you what, you got anything going on this weekend? We'll take the car up to Canada, find one of those hokey bed-and-breakfast places…yeah, just you and me. It'll be fine, it'll be okay. Yeah. Friday afternoon. Okay. Bye."

Jake stayed out on the balcony for a long moment after he hung up, and when he finally came back in Morgan still hadn't wrapped up his phone call, so he and Jason had no choice but to stare at each other.

"Sonny still-"

Jason nodded. "Yeah."

"Ah." He slipped his hands into his pockets again. "And Morgan's-"

"Yeah."

"Hm." He leaned against Sonny's desk, wincing, and rubbed his temples. "So…bet you're glad to get rid of the sling."

Jason smiled. "Yeah, it was a pain in the ass."

"Aren't they?" his son shuddered. "My God, I couldn't wait to get mine off. Did everything I could to get Cam to give me the go ahead to burn that damn thing."

He winced again and shook his head, and Jason's brows furrowed. "You okay?"

"Headache," Jake muttered. "I get them sometimes."

"Yeah, you said." Jason studied him, still concerned. "You gonna be okay?"

"Get 'em cause I can't sleep," he grumbled. "Yeah, I'll be fine. It'll just take a minute to pass. Fuck."

"Don't you have any of those pills? The ones Cam prescribed you?"

He shook his head. "Ran out last week, never bothered to refill."

They looked over as Sonny came down the stairs, Morgan's papers in hand. "What's going on? You okay?"

"You got any painkillers around here?"

"Bottle in the desk drawer," he replied as Morgan came out of the kitchen, now texting on his fancy new phone. "You see it?"

"Yeah, thanks." Jake shook three pills loose and dry-swallowed them as best he could. He was clearly in pain, but that didn't stop him. "You ready to go or what? What were you doing, dictating the Old Testament?"

"Quit whining," Morgan replied, finally putting away his phone. He was about to continue when he noticed the way his best friend was rubbing his head. "You okay? Another headache?"

"Yeah," he ground out. "I'm fine. Fine."

"You got your Vicodin with you?"

Jake glared at him, hating the hen-pecking as much as Jason hated it when Sonny did it. "No. Ran out. It's fine, let's just go."

"We'll stop by the hospital and get the script from Cam," Morgan announced, taking the papers from Sonny and shoving his best friend through the door. "Thanks, Dad, I'll see you later. Move it, asshole, we're getting you those damn pills."

"Drug dealer."

"Just move."

* * *

**.: Morgan's Escalade :.**

"I told you, I don't need the pills," Jake insisted as Morgan came to a stop at the light a few blocks away from General Hospital. "I got some ibuprofen from your dad. I'll be fine."

Morgan watched him take a swig from the water bottle out of the corner of his eye. "Look, the hospital's on the way, and we have some time. We'll get the script from Cam, stop by the pharmacy and get it filled. It'll take fifteen minutes. He's working in the clinic today, right? He'll be right on the first floor. Even better."

"I don't need the-"

"You're the last person I trust when it comes to your pills," Morgan informed him. "You always lie about how bad they are. I've seen you, man. You're getting those pills if you need them."

"But I don't," he insisted. "They always pass. It'll be fine."

"We're one block away," he informed him. "Oh, look, too late. I just pulled in."

Jake rolled his eyes as Morgan parked in the twenty-minute parking spaces not too far from the front door. "You're just like my mom – getting worried over nothing."

"Better safe than sorry," Morgan told him. "So shut up and deal. Come on."

Jake heaved a heavy sigh and reluctantly got out of the car, following Morgan as he walked briskly toward the doors. The air conditioning hit him square in the face as he walked in, and they headed immediately toward the free clinic where all General Hospital doctors and nurses were required to put in their requisite weekly hours.

Cameron stood leaning with his arms on the counter, talking to Molly. The clinic's computers were on the fritz and she was scanning the hard drive as the nurses milled about around them. He looked up when the two men entered and smiled, despite being a little confused.

"Hey, guys. What are you doing here?"

"Hey, strangers," Molly beamed, her fingers flying over the keys as she worked.

"Hey." Morgan tipped his head toward his best friend, who was scowling. "Jake needs his prescription. He ran out last week or something."

Cameron nodded and reached into the large pockets of his white coat, fumbling around for his book. "Sure, sure. Hang on – here it is. You get another headache?"

"A little while ago," Morgan filled in for him. "We were at my dad's place and he took an ibuprofen for it. We can get this filled right away, right?"

"Yup," Cameron nodded. "You know where the pharmacy is – Jake? You okay?"

He had seen his brother wince, his eyes clenched tightly shut, his expression one of pure pain, and Cameron had just reached out to him when Jake bent forward and vomited on his shoes.

* * *

**.: Chloe Morgan Memorial Clinic, General Hospital :.**

Pills, pills, pills.

Jake absolutely hated running to his brother to write him a prescription for his pills. It made him feel like a fucking invalid…or at least someone with a pathetic chemical dependency. There was a reason that he cut his pills in half. A half-dosage just took the edge off his headaches, leaving him to deal with the dull throbbing for the better part of the day, but he didn't trust himself to take more.

He knew the effects of Vicodin. Aside from the damage it did to the liver – Jake had already been jaundiced as a baby, according to his mother, and he really didn't feel like going there again – it created a pleasurable, floating feeling. He had taken a full pill once just out of curiosity and lost almost half a day, just floating in and out of his own head. It was a very addictive feeling, and he didn't trust himself not to abuse that.

So he took to only taking half pills, never more, even if the headache was bad. He just required assistance in getting past the worst of it. He didn't need to be one hundred percent better; he just needed to be able to function without feeling like a metal spike was being driven into his head. Besides, a little pain was good. Pain made him feel alive.

But Morgan never listened. He knew that his best friend kept an eye on his Vicodin use. He glanced at the bottle every time Jake had to take it out, always taking a quick mental picture of how full it was and judging that against how full it had been the last time Jake had taken it out. Morgan probably worried about the possibility of addiction, too, and Jake didn't blame him.

He watched how many Jake took, but he also knew that Jake needed them. So when he saw that the bottle was empty, he always pushed Jake to go get it refilled. His headaches were bad enough as they were; he didn't need to try to get through them without anything.

"Jake needs his prescription filled," Morgan was saying. "He ran out last week or something."

Cameron reached into his pocket for his prescription pad, no questions asked. He was very careful about the dosage he prescribed, but he never needled Jake any more than that. "Sure, sure. Hang on – here it is. You get another headache?"

Jake nodded weakly and thankfully, Morgan took up for him.

"A little while ago. We were at my dad's place and he took an ibuprofen for it. We can get this filled right away, right?"

His last word coincided perfectly with a sharp jab of pain right behind Jake's eyes, and he closed them tightly against it. It felt like something was being seared right into his brain, a brilliant explosion of light and pain and white.

"Yup. You know where the pharmacy is – Jake? You okay?"

His head was swimming, and Jake could barely see straight. And even as he leaned forward and emptied the contents of his stomach onto his brother's shoes, he was barely aware of it. And as soon as it happened, the darkness hurtled in at him and everything bled away as he collapsed on the floor at his brother's feet.


	38. Never See With Virgin Eyes Again

**-Mean-**

**-37-**

_And inevitably, _

_What we used to be will_

_Succumb to the pull of gravity_

_And you will never, no,_

_You will never_

_See with virgin eyes again._

-- "Unbroken," Missy Higgins

**.: Penthouse 2, Harborview Towers :.**

"I'll drive," Sonny announced, searching his desk drawer for the keys. "You just got your thing off, you're supposed to take it easy."

Jason rolled his eyes. "I told you, I'm fine."

"I'm still driving."

He shrugged and waited patiently as Sonny pocketed his keys, made sure he had everything, and then gestured to the door.

"Come on. We'll go to the Grille. And if we happen to run into Edward…"

That got a smile out of Jason. Sonny and Edward were at odds and his best friend was just itching for the opportunity to needle the old man. "Yeah, yeah."

Sonny almost had his hand on the knob when his phone rang. He groaned and pulled the door open. "We'll let the machine get it."

"Answer it," Jason said, holding back. "Go ahead. Might be important."

His friend sighed and let the door shut, then reached out and jabbed the speaker button. "Sonny Corinthos."

"_Dad!"_

"Morgan?" He frowned at Jason, not liking the sound of his son's voice. "What's wrong? What happened? Where are you?"

"_I'm at the hospital," _came the reply, and Morgan sounded frantic. _"I took Jake to the hospital and he threw up on Cameron."_

Sonny's eyes widened. "Is he okay? What happened?"

"_We don't know, we don't know anything. Cam – Cam just admitted him. He threw up and then passed out, we couldn't get him to wake up and Cam called for a stretcher and – Hey. Hey. What's the problem here?"_

They heard some static and it was clear that Morgan's attention had been diverted.

"Morgan. Morgan!" Jason leaned toward the phone, trying to get the boy back on the line. "What happened? How's Jake? Where is he now?"

"_Hey. What's the problem? …What? Are you fucking kidding me? No, don't tell me to calm down, I'll calm down when you get the fuck out of my face. Do you know who I am? I'm Morgan Corinthos."_

He said it with the same perfect arrogance as his father, and Sonny scrubbed a hand over his face.

"_You might very well be the Chief of Surgery here, and you might very well have your rules and protocols, but let me tell you what I have. I have the money that keeps this hospital running. My cousin is Spencer Cassidine, whose family has kept this institution afloat for forty years. At the end of the day, General Hospital is a business. So I'll tell you what, Doctor Ford. You can prove that you're a good businessman by backing off, letting Cameron Webber admit his brother and preside over his case, and get back to your office. I don't fucking care – so what if he's his brother? He wants to be on this case, I want him to be on this case…Let me be perfectly clear. I. Do. Not. Care. If you stall Dr. Webber any further, I will pull every last cent I donate to this hospital and make sure Prince Cassidine does the same. And where will you be then, Mister Chief of Surgery?"_

He growled and his voice was clearer, which Jason took as a sign that Doctor Ford had backed off and let Cameron take the case. _"I thought as much. Dad?"_

"We're right here," Jason replied quickly. "Morgan, tell us what happened. What's wrong with Jake?"

"_We don't know anything yet. Cameron just admitted him and they're trying to get him in for an MRI right now. He looked like he was having a really bad headache and then he just fell. Cameron thinks it might be trauma to the head. They're trying to find out. Mrs. – Mrs. Webber, she's in surgery. Dad, she's still in surgery and she has no idea. Please, you have to get over here."_

Sonny plucked his keys out of his pocket and clenched them, nodding grimly at a stunned and pale Jason. "We're on our way, son."

* * *

**.: General Hospital :.**

Morgan sat next to Elizabeth on the couch in the waiting area and looked over when the elevator doors beeped. His best friend's mother held his hand in hers in a vice-like grip. She refused to let go since he and Sonny broke the news to her, and Morgan understood. Holding his hand made her feel a little more connected to her son when she wasn't able to be with him.

His uncle sat stiffly in one of the single chairs that looked far too small to accommodate him, and looked up in surprise when Spencer came to a stop next to him. The Cassidine Prince's dark eyes were solemn as he looked around, nodding to each member in turn, before wearily taking a seat next to Sonny.

"Ms. Webber, I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I heard. Laur's most likely on the launch as we speak."

Elizabeth smiled weakly. "Thank you, Spencer."

She glanced again at Jason, who held her gaze. He had been there when she came out of surgery and entered the hub, inquiring about the message someone left her. Morgan saw her and called out to her, and together he and Sonny told her what happened in the clinic. Jason had wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, but there were too many people around. So instead, he just held her hand tightly between them as the nurses milled around, offering her their prayers and condolences. If Morgan, who had stuck to her side like glue, noticed the two of them, he didn't bring any attention to it and for that Jason was grateful.

The Cassidine heir pulled his phone out of his pocket when it beeped, drawing their attention, and Jason was just starting to think how rude that was when he spoke.

"That was my wife," Spencer told Elizabeth. "My father's back from Greece and she's meeting him on the docks. They'll arrive together."

Morgan was also flipping through his text messages. "Got one from mom. She and CeeCee are on their way."

"I'm here! I'm here! Oh, my God, I swear, I'm here!" Molly came running down the hall and careened wildly around the hub, the arm holding her laptop jutting out at her side, and skidded to a halt right by Jason's chair.

"The machines were all backed up," she told Elizabeth, taking a seat on the coffee table right in front of her. "But Cam and I moved things around and we got him in for more tests. We'll know more very soon."

She reached out and patted the young woman's knee. Whenever either of her boys needed help, Molly Lansing was the first in line to do it. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"I, um, I was on the phone with my dad when we found out that Jake was admitted," she continued quietly. "He sends his best regards and his best wishes."

Elizabeth smiled at that. "Tell him I appreciate it."

"I will." Her laptop beeped and Molly growled, flipping the lid open. An instant message popped up and her brows jumped. "Oh, good. Anna let her class out a little early. She's on her way."

Mal, who had been too antsy to sit with them, had been pacing around the wing where the imaging machines were operated and was now trotting over to them. "My dad just got out of surgery and is handling the case with Cam. Just thought I'd pass it along."

Jason let out a sigh of relief. Patrick Drake was a renowned neurosurgeon and he wanted the best of them finding out what was wrong with his son. "Thanks."

If the young psychiatrist thought it strange that he was thanking him, he didn't let it show. Mal just nodded and finally took his seat next to Jason. He twiddled his thumbs between his knees, his eyes tracing the pattern on the carpet. Everyone would be here soon. His father was on the case, his mother was on hand in these halls, his sister would only need ten minutes to drive from campus to the hospital. His girlfriend would be here soon with her mother, Molly was already around, Kristina was closing up her office, Michael, who had returned from London over the weekend, was wrapping up a meeting his stepfather and both men would be heading to the hospital immediately. Spencer was here, his wife and father soon would be, the Commissioner would find someone to cover for him, and there was no way that anyone could keep Amalia from breaking all kinds of traffic laws on her way from Crimson Point.

Everyone would be here together, in the same room, concerned for the same person, and something in the air told him that nothing would be the same. And before this ordeal was over, Mal had the distinct feeling that he'd be seeing many of these people in the psychiatric counseling ward of the hospital.

The elevator doors beeped and slid open, and all eyes turned toward Commissioner Lucky Spencer. He looked haggard and drawn and zoned in on Elizabeth as soon as he stepped out. She let go of Morgan's hand and got off the couch, and the Commissioner wrapped her up in his arms and held her, smoothing a hand over her hair.

Mal's eyes flicked toward Jason. The enforcer watched the couple and averted his gaze, his eyes vividly pained before the mask descended and his expression became unreadable.

Oh, yeah. He'd be seeing these people on his couch soon enough.

* * *

"Jason."

Carly wrapped her arms around her best friend's neck and closed her eyes. "Oh, Jason, I'm so sorry. Have you heard anything yet?"

He shook his head as Cecily gave Elizabeth a hug before taking a seat between Spencer and her boyfriend. "No, nothing. Cameron was around, but he was too busy to update us. They're running tests, tests, tests…"

"I know." She smoothed her hands up and down his arms, her expression sympathetic. "He's going to be okay."

And then, as if she remembered what she was doing and that her reaction to the news was very, very suspicious, Carly pulled away from him and approached Elizabeth.

"I'm so sorry. What happened?"

Elizabeth shook her head wearily, and both women were relieved that none of the kids seemed to notice the display from earlier. "All I know is that he came in with a headache, vomited, and then lost consciousness."

"Does that – does that mean anything?"

Her lower lip wobbled. "It could mean an aneurysm, but we don't know for sure yet."

"Oh, God."

Michael hopped out of the elevator, and opened his arms immediately for Amalia. He hugged her tightly before reaching out and squeezing his brother's shoulder. "How is he?"

"Still running tests." His brother gestured to the couch. "Sit."

The group was almost assembled. Spencer and Morgan were seated, Cecily and Mal were there, Amalia was sitting with Michael, Molly was perched on the coffee table, Kristina was sitting on the window sill, and Cameron was running around trying to get updates to the group as soon as he could. The only one missing was Anna, who called to say she'd been intercepted by her department head the way there and was still on her way.

"Excuse me." A nurse approached the group with a sealed bag in her hands. "I'm so sorry, I should have done this earlier, but…"

She held out the bag. "These were his personal effects. I'm not sure who would like to…"

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and took a step forward. "I will."

Molly saw the bag and cringed, knowing that there had been something she'd been forgetting all this time. Elizabeth had the bag in her hands and looked up in surprise when the young woman appeared at her side and reached for it.

"If you don't mind-"

Elizabeth held the bag out of reach. "They're Jake's – I'm keeping them."

"And I have no issue with that," Molly promised, reaching for it again. She succeeded in taking it from Elizabeth and pulled her friend's phone out. "I just need this, that's all."

Elizabeth wasn't pleased, but took the bag back when Molly handed it to her. She flipped Jake's phone open and cringed at the missed calls and texts.

"Oh, jeez." With a sigh, she turned to her friends. "There's so much we forgot to take care of. Kay, you've got your laptop, right?"

Her sister nodded. "Right here."

"Write up a statement for the press," Molly ordered as she pulled it out of her attaché case. "Something vague, don't give too much away, and just stress that we're waiting for more information and appreciate the support. Email it to me as soon as you're done and I'll get it to the national media outlets. Spencer, you've got pull downtown – see if the police can hold off the reporters. They'll all be after exclusive interviews; we give them nothing."

He nodded and pulled out his phone, but Molly wasn't done. "Michael, can you help Morgan take care of Jake's schedule and cancel his meetings? It's on our server – Morgan knows how to access it."

Morgan nodded as Michael pulled out his own laptop, and Molly turned her attention back to the phone when it rang.

"Molly Lansing."

Elizabeth was still frowning softly at her as the young woman moved away from the group, not wanting to have this conversation within earshot for obvious reasons.

"No, Chase, I don't want you to leave your post. There's no need to delay. Have the men stopped working?" Her heels clicked on the tiles as she hurried away from Lucky in particular. "Yeah. The coffee goes out as planned. That's what I said. No, I'll handle that. Okay, talk to you later, I've got another call. Molly Lansing for Jake Webber."

Elizabeth shivered and hugged her arms around herself, meeting Jason's gaze. His expression was grim, but he said nothing. With nothing left to do, she wearily sank down into her seat once more, resting her head against Nadine's shoulder when the younger nurse wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Lucky glanced at Jason, who kept his eyes trained on the floor. He looked over at Nikolas, who was watching Robin talk to Johnny about what the prognosis looked like this early in the game. Michael and Morgan murmured to each other as they ironed out Jake's schedule and sent out the appropriate notices and calls to associates. Carly braced her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands as Jax gently tucked her hair behind her ear.

The click of heels was heard again and Molly returned to proof the statement that Kristina had written for the press. Together, the sisters arranged a quick press conference and Molly alerted both the local and national media as Kristina went over what she had written a few times to make sure the delivery was as smooth as possible.

The elevator beeped and the doors slid open, and they all looked over to see the baby of the group step out. Anna Drake was dressed in a pencil skirt and prim silk blouse, her normal university outfit, and looked absolutely exhausted. She looked around the group, her expression solemn, and Jason almost wondered why she didn't look at all surprised to see him.

With a sigh, she stepped forward and dropped her seventies'-style messenger bag on the floor by the sofa where Carly sat. The older woman scooted over, patting a spot on the couch next to her for her daughter's best friend, and Anna sat down.

Her eyes remained downcast as she pulled her phone from her bag and, flipping it off, set it in the center of the coffee table. Elizabeth looked at her curiously until Kristina reached into her blazer pocket, pulled out her phone, and did the same. Morgan left his on but set it down as well, as did Michael as he sent out the last of the emails. Mal flipped off his phone but kept his pager, and Cecily tossed hers into the pile. Molly added hers, but hung on to Jake's for business and sentimental reasons. Spencer and his wife followed suit, and Amalia set hers down as well.

Jason watched them strangely, knowing that this was a symbolic gesture, hating that he had absolutely no idea what it meant. In the end, Anna took pity on him.

"When we were in high school," she started quietly, "Jake used to say that if he was in the same room as me, Amalia, Mal, Molly, Kay, Spencer, Morgan, Michael, CeeCee, Cameron, and his mom, he could turn off his phone and leave it on the table and be absolutely fine. Because no one else mattered."

* * *

"Doctor Webber wanted us to let you know our preliminary findings."

Cameron's two young fellows, one young man who was a Harvard graduate and one young woman who as a Johns Hopkins alumni like himself, stood in front of the group with their patient file.

Elizabeth rose to her feet and folded her arms around herself. "What is it? Just say it, I just want to know."

Lucky was at her side, and Jason rose to his feet as well, the rest of the group following suit behind him. "How bad is it?"

"Jake Webber was admitted after he lost consciousness, citing a headache and nausea," they summed up. "The MRI revealed an aneurysm."

Amalia's lips parted in surprise, and she remembered that it was exactly what his grandfather Jeff died of. "An aneurysm?"

Cameron's fellows mistook her surprise for ignorance. "A hemorrhage, bleeding in the brain. In the subarachnoid space, specifically. Dr. Drake performed the surgery to remove as much of it as he could, but the patient-"

"Jake," Jason corrected acerbically.

"But Jake's condition became unstable during the procedure," the young woman picked up smoothly. "He's out now and stabilizing, and we're waiting for the lab to get the test results back."

"I have them."

A very weary Cameron walked past the hub toward the group, a file of papers in his hand. "I'll take it from here. Go."

His fellows exchanged looks and turned to depart, nodding at Elizabeth and the others assembled.

"Cam?" Her hand was on her heart as Elizabeth approached him, fearing the news. "What do the test results say?"

He shuffled the papers in his hands, not bothering to look at them. "Like they told you, Jake suffered an aneurysm. The signs of an aneurysm are usually a painful, persistent headache and nausea."

"So his headaches all these times-" Jason struggled for words. "That meant he was slowly bleeding into his brain? They weren't because of his insomnia?"

"Those headaches were," Cameron confirmed. "He gets them precisely because of his insomnia. The headache he suffered once inside the clinic where I admitted him, the sudden, painful headache, was unrelated. That was the one that signaled the aneurysm. While he was in surgery, I had tests sent down to the lab."

He cleared his throat, his eyes instinctively seeking out Elizabeth, Robin, and Nadine. "He has a low platelet count."

Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears as Robin and Nadine gasped. Jason and Amalia looked at each other and then desperately back at the young doctor.

"What does that mean?"

"The low platelet count, coupled with the SAH – uh." Cameron stuttered on his words. "The bleeding, the bleeding. The low platelet count coupled with the hemorrhage means it's Thrombocytopenia, which is a symptom of aplastic anemia."

Amalia closed her eyes, trying to hold on to the last semblance of her patience. "But what does that _mean_, Cameron?"

"It means that Jake needs a bone marrow transplant from a relative before it's too late."


	39. Tears That Still Drip Sore

**Note – **At some point before I post Chapter 39, I will put up some commentary on this chapter. I'll post it at my site (link in my profile and you can also see it posted to my YouTube channel since the commentary will be a video).

**-Mean-**

**-38-**

_I am not a stranger;_

_No, I am yours,_

_With crippled anger_

_And tears that still drip sore._

-- "Cut," Plumb

**.: General Hospital :. **

"I need a minute."

Cameron nodded and took a step back. "Sure, Mom. I'll, uh…" He gestured over his shoulder. "I've got my fellows combing the national donor registry. I'm going to go see how they're doing."

She folded her arms around her middle and nodded, watching him depart. When he was gone, Elizabeth cleared her throat and looked at Lucky. "Can I speak with you privately?"

He nodded and Carly took a step forward. "I'm coming, too."

Robin and Patrick, who had just come out of surgery and was still wearing his scrubs, used this as their way in. "I think we'd better, too."

After that, it was fairly easy for Jax, Sonny, and Jason to join the group. Nadine's shift was starting so Johnny elected to walk her to her wing. They separated, and the others followed Elizabeth and Lucky to a private waiting room down the hall where they wouldn't be disturbed. Amalia watched them go, and rested her head against Michael's shoulder again.

"Do they think they're being subtle or something?"

* * *

**.: Waiting Room, General Hospital :.**

"I'm going to do it," Jason announced. "I'm getting tested."

Elizabeth bit her lip as Lucky glared at the other man. She didn't know what to say to that; she didn't know what to say to any of this. She had only just found out that her younger son had 

suffered an aneurysm and been diagnosed with aplastic anemia. Her father had passed away from an aneurysm as well, and she knew from her training that they were congenital.

And now Jason wanted to step up and get tested, and the secret they worked so hard to maintain for the past twenty-five years was going to be blown to bits.

Sonny Corinthos had the nerve to look pleased at this turn of events. "Good for you."

Lucky scowled. "If Jason gets tested, then there won't be any way to hide it. Jake's paternity will come out."

"Does that even matter anymore? The whole reason that you all lied to him was because you wanted him out of the mob." Sonny threw his hands into the air. "Yeah, that worked out real well for everyone."

Lucky closed his eyes. "And what about the psychological trauma of finding out that your father's not really your father? What about that, Sonny?"

The mobster shrugged uneasily. "…Jake's a strong guy. He'll be able to get past it. At least he'll be alive and able to get past it."

Elizabeth's covered her mouth with her hand and Jason glared at his best friend. Patrick folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wall. This was an impossible situation, and he didn't think he was qualified to pass judgment.

Carly and Robin, on the other hand, weren't nearly as scrupulous.

"I don't think you should."

Jason closed his eyes. "Carly…"

She tilted her chin up defiantly. "Don't do it, Jason."

Sonny gaped at his ex-wife. "How can you say that? He can claim his son – he can save his life! Doesn't that mean anything?"

Even Jax was looking at her strangely, but Carly ignored both of them. "You made this decision a long time ago," she told her best friend quietly. "You knew what you were doing then. You had your reasons. You thought that he would grow up happier with Lucky and Elizabeth."

"But I promised I would always be there for him if he needed me," Jason ground out.

Her expression didn't change. "But not in the way you really wanted to be. You cut yourself off from being his father, Jason. Jake doesn't see you as his father. He sees you as Morgan's uncle, the man he took the business from, an old friend of his mother's. He doesn't see you as a father. 

And if you do this and you get tested and you're a match and you save his life, how do you think that's going to work?"

"He'll be alive," Sonny growled. "That's all that mattered."

"There are things worse than death," Carly said, pressing her lips together when she felt tears prick the back of her eye. "What do you think is going to happen, Jason? That he's going to wake up and find out what you did and put his arms around you and tell you he's so glad you're his father?"

Elizabeth's liquid eyes narrowed, and her hand was clenched so tightly that her nails almost bit into her skin. "That's not fair, Carly."

"None of this is fair!" she burst out. "It stopped being fair a long time ago – why should we try to bring any sense of fair back into it? Jake is going to hate you, Jason. He's going to hate you. In his mind, you would have had so many opportunities to tell him the truth. And picking this one? Stepping up as his father only because you had to?"

Jason's eyes flashed with anguish. "That's not what I'm-"

"But that's what he'll think," Carly persisted. "He'll think that you only stepped up as his father because you would have felt too guilty if he – if he died, not because you actually care or that you actually want to be his father."

She swept her tears away and shook her head. "Look, I know him. I know how he thinks. I've watched him grow up, I was much closer than you were able to be. That's exactly how he's going to feel. If you don't believe me, run it by Morgan, because he'll say the same thing."

"The kids." Patrick's first words, and they all turned to see him scrubbing his hands over his face. "Oh, God, there is no way that this is going to end well."

"Which is why you can't do this," Carly repeated. "You can't get tested and say that you're his father, Jason. Get tested and play it as a coincidence, that it's the same as a donor match from the registry, but do _not_ do this."

Robin quietly cleared her throat. "I agree."

Carly whirled on her, brow arched. "Really? You, Princess? Wanting to keep a paternity secret?"

The doctor didn't dignify that with even a glare. "Don't do this, Jason. It might seem like you'll be bringing everyone together by stepping forward now, but you'll just blow everything apart. From – From a medical standpoint…"

She twisted her fingers together. "Cameron and Elizabeth are likely matches. There's a good chance that one of them will be able to donate the marrow Jake needs. Jason, you don't have to do this."

"But…" Jason shook his head, trying to clear it. His mind was racing with all this information and he had no way to process it. His heart and gut screamed at him to do this, to step forward, but Carly's argument made sense and Robin's was based on medical fact. He wanted to make things better, but he might very well make things worse if he did this.

He turned to Elizabeth. "What should I-"

"Don't you _dare_ ask me!" she burst out, jabbing a finger at him and surprising them all. "All our lives, you've _always_ asked me. You've _always _left it up to me. I can't do it anymore! I can't!"

Robin made a sound of distress and reached out, wrapping her arms around her old friend and holding her close. Elizabeth sobbed, unable to hold herself in check, and Robin helped her to the couch so they could sit down.

Elizabeth had her face in her hands, and Robin looked up at the group. "Well? What's going to happen? A decision has to be made sooner rather than later."

"Do it," Sonny said.

Carly shook her head. "Don't."

"Don't," Robin added quietly.

"Don't do it," Lucky warned.

Patrick slid down against the wall and sat on the floor, his knees bent, and offered no help. "God speed, whatever you decide."

Jax stared at the floor, trying to make sense of all of this, the prudent businessman in him carefully and painstakingly weighing all the pros and cons in his head. "…Don't do it. Yet."

Jason looked at him, and in a few seconds Jax found himself the center of attention. "What?"

"Don't do it yet," he repeated quietly. "The tests take some time. The doctors are working on getting Jake stabilized, and Cameron already said that his team is looking through the national donor list. Let Elizabeth, Lucky, and Cameron get tested. Let the results come back, wait and see if there are any matches. If there are, Jake's saved. If there aren't…step forward."

Hushed silence stretched between them as the adults gathered considered this plan. Jason sank down onto the couch next to Elizabeth, letting Jax's words play over and over again in his head. He had to admit, the idea made sense. The plan was sound. Jax took Robin's medical advice and combined it with Carly's concerns as well as Jason's and Sonny's. Elizabeth and Cam would likely be a match, at least one of them, and if not then Jason would step forward. It caused the least amount of damage to all those concerned, particularly his son.

He was about to quietly add his agreement when he felt Elizabeth's hand settle hesitantly on his knee.

"I think we should go with Jax's idea."

And so it was decided.

* * *

Elizabeth, Lucky, and Cameron were all tested. They were given Filgrastim injections for four days and were properly sedated for the ninety-minute procedure, which meant that Cameron could no longer stay on the case by himself. Patrick took over and made sure that Jake was constantly monitored. Both of Elizabeth's boys were equally stubborn, so Patrick turned over the task of making sure that Cameron was constantly monitored to Molly. She brought her laptop and did her work while making absolutely sure that her boyfriend didn't try to get out of bed before he could. Lumbar and pelvic punctures were serious, and patients weren't supposed to move around too much after having one. But it was very hard for Cameron to think of himself as a patient, and that was where Molly came in.

Lucky was asleep, and Elizabeth had meekly asked to be sedated until it was safe for her to get up and move around, knowing that she would drive herself crazy otherwise. Not particularly caring how it looked to anyone else, Jason sat with her the whole time while she slept. He wanted to be able to sit with his son, but Jake had been transferred to a protective or sterilized room, and Patrick didn't allow visitors. Even the doctors that went in to treat him had to follow protocol and dress in special suits to prevent the passing on of any infections or germs that might cause his condition to deteriorate.

The kids had taken to standing outside of Jake's room in shifts, even going so far as to pull up chairs against the wall. Malcolm had to get some work done in his office and reschedule some of his appointments and take the ones he couldn't adjust, so Cecily had gone to help him with that. Michael had been around before but currently wasn't anywhere to be found, but few noticed. Morgan and Kristina ducked out for a few hours each day over the course of the week to take care of their own work and make arrangements and were expected back in about ten minutes, and Molly was still sitting with Cameron who had started insisting that he was well enough to get up and walk around. Anna taught her classes for the day and had then gone home to get a change of clothes for herself and her brother, and had brought along a few extra pairs of each in case anyone else needed any. Most of them were roughly the same size, after all.

Johnny tried to convince Amalia to come home with him two hours ago and eat, change, get some rest, but she wasn't having any of it since she had already gone home the night before. So he went back to 235 Cherry Blossom alone and filled Nadine's favorite picnic basket with some sandwiches and flavored water bottles and brought them back for everyone. Then, asking Jason to give Elizabeth his best when she came to, he left to get back to his own work. Nikolas spent some time with Lucky before leaving to attend a board meeting, and Spencer would leave Laurenna at the hospital or at their inland suite when he absolutely had to return to Spoon Island for conference calls and other business-related dealings.

Carly had gone to take care of an issue at the MetroCourt and returned, hoping to find Jason and her sons. The only one she found was Morgan, who informed her that Jason was sitting with Elizabeth and Carly wisely decided that they didn't need to be interrupted. When she asked where Michael was, Morgan and Amalia exchanged looks before Morgan replied that Michael had a few things he needed to take care of and had left with the promise to return soon. Carly didn't see through the lie; almost three decades of living with such a tremendous one had worn down her radar considerably.

* * *

**.: Elizabeth's Hospital Room :.**

She had unhooked the IV and tossed it away, and now lay on her side in Jason's embrace. The room was dark and he had climbed up on the bed with her when she began to awaken and was now sprawled out underneath her.

He held her for longer than she had any cognizance of, just held her while she cried. Her tears soaked through his shirt, but she knew he didn't mind. He shared those tears. The frustration, the anguish, the fear, the sheer devastation at being unable to do anything to help his son…yes, he shared those tears.

Elizabeth knew that he hated it. Jason hated himself already for not stepping forward earlier and doing what he thought he had to despite what everyone else was saying. He still agreed with Jax's proposal, but there was a part of him that still felt he failed Jake. She tried so hard to convince him that he hadn't, but words were hollow at this point. Words held little meaning.

At some point, this secret had become everyone's. She and Lucky and Jason knew that Jake wasn't Lucky's. Sonny and Carly knew, and that was how Jax knew. Spinelli knew, and so did Diane. Patrick and Robin knew, and Maxie knew simply because Spinelli couldn't keep such a big concern of his away from her.

The secret that was supposed to be hers, eventually hers and Jason's, had become all of theirs. Everyone had an opinion, everyone had a point, everyone had a stake, everyone was invested and wrapped up. They were all so tangled up in this, and it reminded her of what her Gram used to say. _What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive._

It was probably a good thing that the old woman died without knowing that Jake was Jason's. She'd have given Elizabeth hell for it.

Such a big secret about such a small boy had only grown bigger as that boy did the same. More and more people knew, more and more people discussed it, worried about it, anguished over it. But time kept marching on and her little boy, who had so many people invested in his life without even knowing it, kept walking on and making his own decisions until he stopped at the very spot she was trying to keep him away from.

Such a big secret, such little help.

And that was what was killing her.

Elizabeth let out a slow, strained breath and curled closer into Jason's side. His arms tightened around her, his stubble rasping against her cheek, and she never wanted to let go of his warmth. They held each other in the dark, each one dreading the light.

* * *

"Elizabeth, dear, I am so very sorry."

Edward Quartermaine patted her arm as Monica looked on sympathetically. Elizabeth tried to manage a smile, but it was difficult. Her eyes were red and raw and stung the more she rubbed them, and her body still ached from a combination of the lumbar puncture and the sedative. She had never reacted well to those, but sometimes they were necessary. Jason stood next to her, tall but feeling beaten down, and didn't say anything.

"Monica and I are praying for your son's speedy recovery," the old man promised. "It's tragic when things like this happen to those so young. You are all in our prayers, and if there's anything we can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask."

She nodded mutely, unable to do more, and Edward patted her arm one last time before withdrawing with his daughter-in-law. Elizabeth sighed and turned, facing Jake's room again. Most of the kids were gathered there, standing together in small groups except for Michael, who was sitting in a chair with Cecily and Anna crouched down next to him. He must have felt his phone buzz because he fished it out of his pocket, skimming the message quickly before pushing himself to his feet.

Jason watched him slowly walk away, puzzling over his curious limping gate, but was prevented from reaching any conclusions about it by Cameron. The young doctor was out of bed now and walked with Molly by his side. Jason knew that if he lifted that _It's Never Lupus _t-shirt he was wearing, Cameron would have the same bandage on his back that Elizabeth and Lucky did.

Carly and Jax moved closer, along with Johnny and Nadine, when they saw him approach.

"Anything yet?"

Cameron hung his head, listlessly flipping through the file in his hands even though he didn't need to. "…The registry hasn't turned up any matches so far. My team is still working on it. They haven't stopped."

Elizabeth swallowed and tentatively moved forward. "And our tests? The marrow?"

He looked away, his eyes drawn to the window of his brother's room. "I wasn't a match."

Lucky took a step closer. "What about me?"

It was a stupid question, given what he knew, and Cameron had to mentally remind himself not to be short or cross with Lucky. After all, the adults didn't know that Cameron knew that Lucky wouldn't be a match; by appearances, it was perfectly logical for Lucky to be able to donate marrow to Jake, his son.

Still, his words when he spoke were clipped. He didn't appreciate the waste of hospital resources and time just to keep up an illusion that never should have been constructed in the first place. "You weren't, either."

Elizabeth's hand splayed above her heart, her breath barely a whisper. "And me?"

Cameron pressed his lips together. "You were a match, Mom."

Her eyes lit up and she covered her mouth with her hands. Lucky and Jason both breathed a sigh of tremendous relief and Carly let out a happy yelp. Nadine, Patrick, and Robin, however, looked worried.

"…But you can't donate."

She stopped and stared at her son. "What? What are you talking about? If I'm a match…"

"You have high blood pressure, Mom," Cameron told her regretfully, watching the light in her eyes dim as she realized what that meant. "You've had high blood pressure all your adult life, not restricted by salt or medication."

"But-"

He shook his head. "Even if we put you on the medication course now, it would be too long before you were a viable donor. We can't do it, it's against the regulations of every single hospital and donor bank nationwide."

"But there has to be some way…"

Cameron reached out to her when he saw her knees give out underneath her, but Jason and Sonny were quicker. Sonny grabbed Elizabeth's elbow to keep her from hitting the ground, then gently backed off when Jason wrapped his arms around her.

The young doctor placed a hand on his back, trying vainly to ease the pressure and tension that gathered there, and looked helplessly over at his friends. Amalia was glaring at him and Morgan had his eyes closed, trying to absorb it all. Cameron let out a short breath when Amalia crooked her finger at him, walking away from Jake's protective room and toward a more private nook in the hallway. Cameron walked with her and the others followed, leaving the adults by the door.

Cameron looked over his shoulder and saw that his mother was better now. She was standing between Jason and Carly, looking into Jake's room. He was propped up and still not conscious, and was hooked up to several different monitors. His heart monitor beeped steadily, showing his rate was solid and normal.

Cameron turned back to Amalia, whose lips were pressed into a tight, thin line. "What?"

"Do something," she hissed, not noticing when Robin looked back at her questioningly. At the distance, the adults couldn't hear the words being spoken, but Amalia looked as if she almost didn't care whether they heard or not.

"What can I do?" Cameron demanded. "I'm his brother, and even I'm not a match. The registry is turning up nothing so far, Jake's running out of time, and his most perfect donor would be a living relative and-"

"Exactly," Amalia burst out. "All of those things – exactly. He's running out of time and he needs a relative to donate marrow. Your mom can't do it, so it has to be Jason."

"Dad said that Jason won't do it," Anna spoke up softly. "And that Elizabeth and the Commish and our parents and even Carly and Jax agree. The only one who doesn't is Morgan's dad."

"That's because he's always been stubborn that way," Morgan grunted, wearily rubbing his brow. He absolutely hated how helpless he felt, and how the obvious answer was staring them all in the face but everyone was too scared to point it out. "He's always wanted Uncle Jason to claim Jake."

"He's made it very clear that he's got no intention of doing so," Amalia ground out bitterly. Her emotions had been all over the place this past week, and she alternated continuously between hopeless fear and abject anger over the unfairness of it all. She wasn't good when it came to worrying about those she loved, and these past few days proved that beyond the shadow of a doubt. She was fast losing patience with the whole thing, the whole secret, and had already arrived at the conclusion that nothing and no one mattered more than Jake and his being alive and healthy.

"So you have to do something."

"What do you want me to do?" Cameron demanded. "I can't drag Jason into an exam room and give him Filgrastim for five days before tackling him down and drawing the marrow out."

Of course, none of them had any way of knowing that Robin had been giving Jason those injections and that by this time tomorrow, he would be ready to donate marrow.

"I want you to fix this, Cam," she said, furiously swiping at her tears. "Just fix it. Fix it for him. You always fixed all of his problems for him when we were kids. Fix this one."

Cameron closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. He had been hoping that this could be avoided, that he could spare Jake, Elizabeth, and Jason this pain. He knew how badly Jake wanted this to be kept a secret and hated that it fell on him to give it away, but it truly did. Because Amalia was right: they just couldn't do this anymore. It had to be fixed. Jake had to be fixed – everything had to be fixed, one way or another.

With a sigh, he turned on his heel and walked back over to where the adults stood by Jake's window, knowing full well what he had to do. Robin and Patrick drew back as he approached, and Cameron headed straight for his mother, insinuating himself between her and Carly.

"I need to speak to you for a minute."

Carly wisely stepped back and let Jax lead her a little down the hall, and Nadine pulled Johnny away. Sonny moved over by Patrick and Robin, giving them their space, and Lucky reluctantly drew back as well. It was only when Jason turned to leave that Cameron looked at him.

"I'd like you to stay, too, Jason. Please."

He froze. Jason Morgan simply froze. There was no better word for it. He found himself staring at Johnny and Nadine without even seeing them, and the couple averted their gazes because, after all, they weren't supposed to know why the situation was so awkward.

Slowly, so slowly that he could practically hear his bones creak, Jason turned back and faced Jake's room once more. Elizabeth was deathly still beside him and a few years later, both of them would come to admit that they already had a sense of what Cameron was going to say before he said it.

"I know you're worried about…a lot of things right now," the young man started quietly, his voice painfully low. "One of them being who Jake is going to get the marrow transplant from. I'm here to make things just a little easier in that respect."

The bitter irony of his words wasn't lost on him, and Cameron looked away, away from his mother and Jason.

"Jake has known that you were his father since he was six years old. If that's the only thing stopping you, don't let it. He already knows."

Elizabeth let out a shuddering breath, too stunned to even gasp, and Jason could almost feel his blood run backwards. He was numb all over, they both were as they stared at Cameron who just stared at his brother, neither of them able to make sense of what he told them so plainly.

The other adults gathered a few paces away could see that something had changed drastically. Jason and Elizabeth looked drawn and tight, but considerably weakened as they gaped at Cameron who stood tall and stoic next to them. Something big had happened and they all knew what it was, even if they weren't ready to believe it.

They just weren't ready to believe that somehow, the secret they all guarded for almost thirty years was out, and that Cameron of all people was the one to impart the news.

"Cameron! Cam!" All of them, including a dazed Jason and Elizabeth, looked over to see Michael at the end of the hall, moving as fast as he could with his curious gait. He had a piece of paper in his hands and was waving it triumphantly. "I did it! I'm a match!"

Cameron gaped at him, and he wasn't the only one. "How – What – Mike, what are you-"

"I'm a match," Michael repeated, coming to a stop before them. He rubbed his thigh, wincing at the soreness that he was told would go away in a day or two, and shoved the paper into his hands. "I paid off the lab tech to put a rush on it. I'm a match, I'm a match."

Edward and Monica, who had seen him careening down the hall as fast as his body would allow, had followed him over and now wanted answers. "What's the meaning of this?" Edward wanted to know. "Michael, what are you raving about?"

Cameron was staring at the results, his mouth hanging open. "I – I – oh, my God, it's all here. You really _are_ a match. Mike! I didn't even know you were being tested!"

Molly came up to his side, clearing her throat delicately. "I, um, I had something to do with that. I looked at your notes and gave him the injections myself, then paid off a nurse to do the actual puncture. I made up a fake name and assignment for the sample so it wouldn't show up on the server and draw attention."

"I asked her to," Michael said when Cameron stared at his girlfriend. The group was gathered around them now, some of them speechless at what they knew to have happened, and others among them still needing some help.

"Why on earth would you get tested?" Edward blustered. "Young man, that would have been a waste of hospital resources. You have no biological connection to Jake."

Michael ignored him. "I wanted to have something in place," he admitted, looking at Amalia whose liquid eyes shone with gratitude. "Just in case. Just in case…"

His eyes darted to Jason and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Just in case Jake needed me. And now he does, because I'm a match."

He pointed to the paper unnecessarily, still thrilled to be able to do this. "Which means I have to be prepped for the transplant. It's two rounds of chemo, right? Set it up, I'm ready."

"I'll put a rush on the counseling," Mal promised. "I'll set up the appointment for five minutes from now and sign off on it. If Doctor Ford has a problem with that, he can take it up with me."

"And me," Morgan promised.

"And me," Spencer added. "He shouldn't be able to complain – the rules state that each donor needs a psychiatric session before the procedure can take place. It will happen, case closed."

Elizabeth leaned against the wall for support as all this went on around her, and Carly and Robin stared at the children in bewildered distrust.

Edward still wasn't following, and neither was Monica. "Michael, are you sure you want to do this? Absolutely sure?"

He straightened to his full height. "I'm absolutely sure, Grandfather. This is something I have to do."

Michael glanced at Jason and held his gaze, swallowing roughly. "Jake Webber is one of my oldest friends…and my biological cousin. I'm willing to do what it takes to keep him alive."


	40. Admit To Everything

**Note – **Sorry for the delay. I kind of ran away and had a lazy long weekend with TRG. :-P There's a poll up at my site (which got a face-lift on Saturday) about who is going to tell Jake that Elizabeth asked Jason to give him up on the day that Alan died. Since I took license regarding bone marrow donations, I put up a note in the cheat codes about how the marrow screening and donation process REALLY works. Thank you to Cricket74 for making sure I had my details right. She also provided a helpful link that is posted as well.

**-Mean-**

**-39-**

_He will do one of two things;_

_He will admit to everything_

_Or he'll say he's just not the same_

_And you'll begin to wonder_

_Why you came._

-- "How To Save A Life," The Fray

**.: Jake's Hospital Room, General Hospital :.**

"I told them."

Cameron idly adjusted the IV that entered his brother's hand and sighed heavily. Jake was pale and thin, lying flat and unmoving in the large bed. He was an important person in this town and had thus been assigned to one of the hospital's luxury suites. Even the sheets that were changed daily were made of 400 thread count Egyptian cotton.

"I told them that you were Jason's son." Residual soreness made his muscles protest as Cameron lowered himself into the chair by his brother's bedside. "And I didn't even stop there. I told them that you knew since you were six years old."

He reached out slowly and brushed Jake's golden hair away from his face, letting his hand linger on his shaggy locks. Even though they were only separated by two years, Cameron had always taken his responsibilities as a big brother very seriously. He always looked out for Jake, sensing somehow that Jake needed him to. Two years wasn't a whole lot, but still, Jake somehow looked so small sometimes that Cameron couldn't hold himself back from being his protector.

"Mom was crushed. So was Jason. And I hated myself for doing that to them, but…" He shook his head. "I didn't see any other way at the time. I thought Jason was your last chance. I didn't even think of Mike. Can you believe that? All our lives, we've grown up thinking of the two of you as cousins, but we could never say anything, so when the time came to actually use that, it was like the connection never existed."

He adjusted the IV line again and looked up at the heart monitor. "Mike is going to do it. He's with Mal right now, getting through the psych eval. Then he'll be prepped and put on antibiotics 

and exposed to two rounds of chemotherapy, to make sure he doesn't have any infections or anything else that could jeopardize your health during and after the transplant."

Cameron sighed again, sitting alone in the darkened room. "There's a lot that we have to discuss after this. A lot that we have to – have to deal with, have to take care of. Mom's a wreck. She's not speaking to anyone, just Jason. He took her somewhere to catch her breath – probably needed to catch his own, too. So we have all that waiting for us once you wake up. And you _will_ wake up, kid."

He reached down to the floor and picked something up, turning the soft object over in his hands before holding it out to Jake, as if he could see it. "Mike sent this. Had CeeCee run back to the house and go through the attic until she found it. He didn't want to start this thing without it."

Cameron held it up to the moonlight, a very worn, very loved plush giraffe. "He says Jason gave it to him when he was a baby, when Jason was taking care of him. He wanted you to have it with you and told me to pass it along. I figure, since you're not awake, I'll just leave it here. You can figure out what you want to do with it when you wake up."

He set it on the nightstand, arranging it next to the lamp so it wouldn't fall over, and drew his hands back into his lap. And then Cameron Webber, his head bowed, his eyes closed, just sat still and quiet in his brother's hospital room, awaiting the next leg of the procedure.

* * *

**.: General Hospital :.**

Michael and Mal were accosted by Sonny and Jax as soon as the two of them stepped out of Mal's office. Hospital regulations mandated a counseling session or psychiatric review before organ donation or a transplant situation involving rounds of chemotherapy, and Mal had quickly gone through the evaluation and would attest that Michael was of sound mind prior to the radiation and transplant procedure.

"You _knew_?"

Michael let out a sigh as Sonny planted his hands on his hips and glared at him in utter bewilderment. "Dad, I'm not doing this. I don't have time right now. Mal, you'll handle the paperwork? Make sure it's cleared right away?"

"I'll do it myself," he promised, lifting the folder that held the signed forms. "By the time you're prepped, it'll be on file."

"Michael, we have to talk." Sonny barred his path, refusing to move. "You've known that Jason was Jake's father? Since when? Since you were a kid? How could you not say anything?"

"Dad, I told you," he growled, moving around him. "I'm not getting into this right now."

"Son."

Jax reached out and grabbed Michael's arm, forcing the young man to turn. He gazed down into his eyes, his expression grave, and finally let go when he saw what he needed.

"You didn't tell because he'd never asked a thing from you," Jax murmured as Sonny looked on. "And you felt guilty."

Michael looked away. "Yeah, I did."

Sonny wasn't following and squeezed his son's shoulder gently. "Why did you feel guilty?"

"Because he was the son that Jason chose," Jax continued quietly, sharing a look with his stepson. "And Jake was the son that Jason chose to give away."

He nodded. "Yeah. And I knew it wasn't my fault and I knew he tried real hard never to resent me or Morgan for that, but…No. I have to go. Cam's waiting."

He glanced at his father and moved away from the two men. "And so is Jake."

* * *

**.: Doctor Malcolm Drake's Office, Psychiatric Wing :.**

"You _knew_?"

Mal looked up when his parents entered his office. He hung up the phone, having just received a confirmation call that his most recent paperwork was on file and it was all perfectly legal.

"Yeah, I did."

Robin shook her head, and he could see the disappointment in her eyes. "Mal, why didn't you ever say something? Why didn't you tell us that Jake knew? We could have – we all could have done something, we could have helped."

His father was more curious than disappointed, but his expression was similarly solemn. "Son, why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Because I couldn't," the young psychiatrist replied honestly. He leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers thoughtfully. "I don't know what it would have done to him _precisely_, but it would have destroyed him in any event."

Robin threw her hands up in the air. "How would it have destroyed him? Elizabeth and Jason would have been able to talk to him and explain to him why they did what they did, and-"

"That secret was everything to him," Mal continued as if she hadn't even spoken. He stared at an old picture of himself, Jake, and Spencer at a Nurse's Ball when they were teenagers. They were standing on stage with their instruments: Jake seated at the piano, Spencer with his saxophone, and he with his guitar. "It was his _raison d'etre_."

"His reason for being?" His mother wasn't seeing the sense in any of this. "How can that be?"

"Knowing that he was the kid that Jason Morgan didn't want was what drove him his entire life," he explained, his words clipped. "It was his reason for everything he did – getting good grades in school, wanting his name in the paper, taking care of his mom the way he does, joining up with Morgan and taking control of the business. Every single thing that he is today, he is because of this secret we all kept."

Robin's heart was hammering in her chest, hearing her son speak like that, and she shook her head adamantly. "That wasn't right, Mal. He's lived his whole life letting that secret grow and fester inside him, probably having all the wrong ideas about what really went on between his parents. Doesn't he know how hard it was for Jason to give him up? He probably has no idea. It's never easy for a father to step away from his own flesh and blood like that."

Mal's dark brows shot up. "Really? Is that why you worked doubly hard to get Dad to stay away from us when you were pregnant with me? At least Jake's mother had an excuse – Elizabeth was trying to protect herself and her children from what Jason does for a living. You had everything that she would have killed for, and you pushed Dad away because it was what you wanted, because you were so mad at him for not immediately being ready to have kids at the same time you were that you selfishly ignored his desire to be there for you and support us."

She pulled back as if struck, and both Robin and Patrick stared at their normally easy-going, level-headed son in shock.

"Mal, I-"

He could hear the tears in his wife's voice, so Patrick stepped in. "Son, how did you – where is this – where is this coming from you?"

Mal shook his head as his father stuttered and waved him away. He found out about the gossip surrounding his parents and his own conception when he was a teenager, and though he was smart enough to realize that it meant little since his parents were happily married, his mother's actions from that time still crept up on him and angered him from time to time.

"Forget it, forget it, it doesn't matter. I've already pretty much worked through those issues, anyway. If you'll excuse me, I have to go over a few things in preparation for my four o'clock."

Patrick and Robin, neatly dismissed, looked down at him sadly as Mal pulled a few files out of his drawer and rechecked the dosages of Eskalith he'd been prescribing for the past two months. A soft tap on the door drew their attention, and they looked up in time to see their daughter enter.

Anna flashed them all a small smile and moved over to the small closet in the corner. "Just wanted a change of clothes. Thanks for hanging on to my stuff, Mal."

He murmured his reply and glanced up only when his mother spoke.

"And what about you?" Robin cleared her throat, hiding the wobble in her voice, and looked at her daughter. "Why didn't you spill about the secret?"

The corner of her mouth curved up in a slow, sad, enigmatic smile as Anna reached for the door again. "It was too beautiful and romantic a secret to ruin in the telling."

* * *

**.: Hub and Waiting Area :.**

"How could you know that? Even I didn't know that!"

Kristina picked up her phone and got up from the couch, hoping to escape her mother. Unfortunately for her, Alexis just followed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't you dare try to evade, young lady," she warned. "I invented that tactic. How did you know that Jason was Jake's father?"

"It's not important."

Molly successfully ducked behind a tall orderly as Kristina passed with their mother on her heels. "Of course it's important! How did you know?"

"I'm sorry, I'm forbidden to tell you that under attorney-client confidentiality."

"Oh, you found out long before you became his attorney."

"Prove it."

"Kristina Stephanie Davis-"

"Mom, this is harassment."

"I'll show you harassment, Missy…"

Molly breathed a sigh of relief as the two women left the hub and made her way over to the couch, laptop in hand. She had been trying to catch Cameron but he was busy, so she figured she'd sit here and get some work done. Word was fast leaking out, and the press was soon going to be all over this, requesting the story and hassling Jason and Elizabeth and hospital staff and trying to get the exclusive interview. She had to handle it before it all got away from them.

Thankfully, her boyfriend hadn't been upset with her for the way she went behind his back. Instead, Cameron had been relieved that everything was handled and taken care of and that a donor was secured. And Molly knew that even though he hadn't had a chance to say it then, he appreciated her being on his side and having his back.

She set her laptop down on the table and turned it on, wincing when she saw all the unread messages that accumulated in her inbox since word about Jake's paternity got out. Her phone sat on the couch next to it and she eyed it suspiciously. Any minute now, she'd get a phone call from her father, demanding to know if it were true: if his ex-wife, the one he always kept on a pedestal, had actually borne the son of his greatest enemy.

Molly crinkled her nose and, reaching for her phone, turned it right off.

There, that was better.

* * *

**.: Cecily's Suite, MetroCourt Hotel :.**

"You _KNEW_?!"

Cecily groaned aloud as she put her wet hair up into a loose bun. "Mom, I'm in my robe. _This _is what you got me out of the shower for?"

Carly planted her hands on her hips and glared at her only daughter. "You _KNEW_?!"

She sighed and let her into the room, softly shutting the door even though she didn't know what good it would do. Her mother's voice certainly carried. Cecily walked right past her, ignoring her glare entirely, and poured herself some sparkling water. She took a fortifying sip, counting down the seconds until her mother lost her patience and decided she had enough of being ignored. Three, two, one…

"Cecily Jane Jacks." Each word was tense and clipped. "You turn around and you answer me right now. You tell me how you could keep such a big secret like this."

She whirled on her, her wet bangs hanging in her face. "How? I'll tell you how, Mom. I just didn't feel the need to tell."

Carly's jaw dropped. "But Jake _knew_ he was Jason's son. He knew! The one thing Jason never wanted to happen – it happened! And you said nothing?"

Cecily shrugged demurely. Even twenty-five years later, she knew her mother still couldn't accept that she was the genuinely level-headed, minimum-drama kind of girl in the family. It certainly went against everything Carly was. "I know, how can we _possibly_ be related?"

"Don't get glib with me," Carly warned. "You knew this secret and day after day, since you were five, you lied to my face. You saw how it killed Jason to be in the same room as Jake and not let on, you saw how it killed me to be a part of that, to let Jake into our house every day and never love him as my best friend's son but just Morgan's friend. You saw-"

"I saw everything, Mom." Cecily set down her water and looked at her mother kindly. She was used to Carly's drama and tried never to hold it against her. Her mother was who she was – just like Cecily was who she was. They were just fundamentally different, that was all, and it was no one's fault. "I was there. We all were."

"You kept it from me," Carly whispered, genuinely hurt. "We always talked about everything, you and me. I always dreamed I'd have a daughter who would tell me everything, who would trust me that way, who would be my best friend."

Ah, the guilt trips. Her mother's tried and true fall-back. Cecily smiled gently and took her mother's hands. "Mom, you don't honestly believe that, you're just saying it. You know full well that no girl ever tells her mother _everything_. And if you're so mad that I kept this secret from you…well, maybe you should think about the secret you were keeping from Jake, and from all of us. Don't be mad at me for keeping my own while you and Jason were keeping yours."

She kissed her sweetly on the cheek and walked away, her bare feet padding over the thick carpet, and left Carly alone in the room.

* * *

**.: Waiting Area :.**

"You knew?"

Elizabeth tried to swallow past the enormous lump in her throat as she watched Nikolas stalk toward his son, who was standing by the window. Her old friend hadn't spoken to her since the news broke, and she had never seen Nikolas this angry.

"You knew and you said nothing?"

Spencer's dark eyes were guarded and solemn. "I'd prefer not to have this conversation in public."

"I don't give a damn!" Nikolas kicked the coffee table out of the way as he advanced on his son. "You knew about this – this – _deception_ and said nothing!"

"No, I didn't," Spencer replied calmly, seeing now that there was no way to get out of having this discussion in public. Apparently, his father didn't care that all the nurses at the hub were only pretending to shuffle papers around as they listened in on every word. "I didn't think it prudent."

Nikolas's face had passed crimson and gone straight to purple, and the vein in his forehead throbbed. "You. Didn't think it. Prudent."

"Correct," he replied in kind, apparently unfazed by his father's rage. "After all, even you didn't know."

"I thought he was my _nephew_," Nikolas seethed. "I spent his whole life treating that boy like my nephew, and now I find out that not only is he not, but that my own son knew about it?"

Spencer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Father, you may have _thought _of him as your nephew, but that's as far as it went. You never invited Jake or his family over to Wyndemere. You hardly ever attended his birthday parties. You made no effort to keep yourself aware of his achievements and his plans. You only remembered his age because you knew he was one year younger than me. You certainly never treated him like your nephew. He was a distant relative to you, maybe not even that. Ever since Emily died-"

"Do not speak of her!"

"Ever since Emily died when I was a baby," Spencer continued, raising his voice, "you've withdrawn into yourself. I grew up thinking that was just how you were, that I was expecting too much of you if I wanted you to spend more time with me, to do things with me. It wasn't until I grew older and I heard stories about how you used to be before that I learned better. You didn't think of Jake or his mother as your family. As far as you were concerned, this shouldn't even come as that big a shock to you. You never considered him a part of your family – why should it bother you so much now to find out that he is, in fact, not?"

"Insolent child," Nikolas growled. "You watched all this happen, and never once did you think to say anything?"

"No," he replied calmly, again. His gaze drifted toward Elizabeth and then back to his father. "I learned the secret when I was just a boy of six or seven. I kept it then out of a warped sense of loyalty and ethics: Jake asked me not to tell, and so I vowed not to. As I grew older, I learned the nuances of truth-telling and acknowledging your vows and when it was okay not to. Still, I kept the secret."

He moved around the coffee table, righting it with his leg, his expression still thoughtful and in direct contrast with the enraged glint in his father's eyes. "Because that was when I started realizing that in the end, it would come out. There were no two ways about it. This secret was too enormous to remain as such. All I could do was just make sure that I wasn't the one to bring it to light."

Spencer shook his head wistfully. "I knew that as we grew older, this secret would drive Jake. Mal calls it his _raison d'etre_. It has been why he's done everything he's done in his life, why he's accomplished so much. He vowed that he would take the secret to his grave, just as I'm sure Jason would have, but Jake was missing the bigger picture. This secret had to come out, and I 

think, on some level, he knew that. And I knew that when it did, he would use it to his advantage. It would come out in the worst and biggest way possible, and it would skyrocket him to power and wealth and status. Somehow, he'd make sure of that. I remain convinced that once he's recovered from this, he'll make the most of this ugly truth being out. He'll take advantage of it."

He tilted his head thoughtfully at his father, who gaped at him now. "And isn't that what a secret is, after all? Nothing but leverage that one person holds over another?"

Spencer arched a brow and headed slowly away from the adults and toward the elevators. "You will excuse me, please."

* * *

**.: Waiting Area :.**

"Let me guess." Carly wrapped her arms wearily around herself as she, Jax, and Sonny approached Morgan. He was seated on the couch in the waiting area by himself and had a thick file open in his lap for skimming purposes. He looked up when they neared but said nothing.

"You knew this whole time and had your own reason for not telling."

His expression was open but at the same time, gave nothing away. There wasn't any indignation to be found in his expressive obsidian eyes, no malice, no resentment, not even any glimmer of smugness. Morgan simply nodded. "I did."

His mother sat down on the table in front of him, looking too tired to even lower herself into a chair. She looked exhausted, worn down, on the verge of just collapsing, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her like this. "Do you want to tell us what it was?"

Morgan looked at his hands. There was so much he wanted to tell them once upon a time. He wanted to tell them when he was a boy that he wasn't as careless and oblivious as they all thought, that he wasn't foolish or irreverent, that he knew the one secret that some of them would give their lives to keep hidden.

He wanted to tell them that he didn't understand how they could do it, how they could all be a party to it. Being in on it with Jake, knowing who his real father was and helping him get to where he wanted to be in life, had felt to Morgan like a way to even the playing fields. The adults wanted to play their own games and keep their own secrets, however explosive and however meaningful and however life-defining? Well, so would they.

And they had. They had successfully kept the secret with no one being the wiser, all until Jake's life was on the line and they realized that no bit of information, no matter how painful and how damning, was worth that. The secret was out, and Morgan didn't regret the way it came out. He knew the aftermath would be ugly and he prayed that Jake, Elizabeth, Cameron, and Jason would all survive it and emerge whole, but he didn't regret it for a second.

All his life, he wanted this secret to come out.

He had done his best to honor his best friend's wishes and support him, even going so far as to help Jake take over the business that had been started by their fathers. Morgan had been on trial for Jake, he'd faced prison for Jake, he'd given up years of his own life and his own happiness for Jake. He'd more than proved himself in regards to supporting Jake, but despite all that, he had always wanted this secret to come out.

Better to deal with it out in the open than deal with it alone in one's mind. It was enough to drive a man mad, and he couldn't count the number of times he'd actually worried for his friend's sanity.

It was out, and part of Morgan was so relieved that he almost couldn't stand it. The other part just wanted to curl up and withdraw into himself until the ugliness passed, until Jake could stand up on his own and feel complete for the first time in his life, until it was all over.

And now his mother and his father and his stepfather, two of them extremely instrumental in the situation as it had progressed to this very day, stood before him wanting to know how he could keep such a thing secret and if he wanted to explain himself.

"No, actually," he said, standing up from the couch and moving past them. "I don't."

* * *

**.: Hallway :.**

After he knocked her up (and became aware of it) Johnny Zacchara had learned something very important about his wife. Whenever things got ugly and complicated and confrontational, Nadine liked to work. She worked herself to death just so she could avoid that certain confrontation or discussion or ugliness that she otherwise wanted to avoid completely. When she entered her third trimester, Johnny threatened her obstetrician to tell Nadine that she was being put on complete and total bed rest until the baby was born. That was the only way he could actually talk to her and discuss their futures and convince her to marry him.

She found out about his deception in her maternity room a few hours after delivering Amalia and socked him good in the kidney, then kissed him sweetly as he tried to recover his breath and perhaps one day, stand upright again.

Post-pregnancy hormones. A most foul enemy, indeed.

And now Nadine was back to her old habits and was hard at work in the Pediatrics wing. She was the senior nurse there in charge of all the others, so there was always plenty to do. This left Johnny alone with the rest of the kids and the adults, and he didn't quite know what to do.

He never really fit in with this gang. Sure, he'd always been a loner, but Nadine had changed that in him to a certain extent. She made him more outgoing, a little more carefree, a lot more spontaneous when he was out with people. He knew Elizabeth Webber very well thanks to Nadine's friendship with her, but the two of them were never really quite close themselves. Nadine was the person they had in common, their buffer, and without her, Johnny found that he didn't really have much to talk to the other nurse about that didn't involve their kids.

And kids were a sore subject right now.

He didn't get on all that great with Carly and Jax. They were at least ten years older than him, and he always though Carly a terrible shrew, and he lacked the patience for that sort of thing. Robin and Patrick were too uptight for him. Patrick seemed an okay enough guy when it was the two of them at Jake's, having a beer and playing a game of pool, and Johnny genuinely did not mind his company then, but he somehow morphed into a different man when his wife was around.

Nikolas was an old friend of Nadine and while Johnny wasn't particularly close with him, he had absolutely nothing against the man. He was a good, decent guy with strict values who knew what he wanted out of life, and Johnny respected that tremendously. Alexis Davis, Nikolas's aunt, was someone that Johnny tried to avoid. They had history together – Alexis was the one that wanted to prosecute him and Claudia before he got his sister out of the country, and Johnny had never been interested in having a civil relationship with her. He exchanged the briefest pleasantries in public, as he did with Sonny Corinthos, and then moved on immediately to someone or something else.

Jason Morgan was a different case entirely. He was the one man in the group that Johnny felt, if either one gave it half a chance, might have been a good friend. Jason was a lot like him. He was a loner sometimes, but had his close circle of friends. He also had his soft spot, namely for Elizabeth Webber and her two boys. He worked hard and he minded his own business, never sticking his neck out far beyond his own turf unless circumstances called for it. He was solid, level-headed, and didn't make rash decisions because there were simply too many people in his life that he needed to protect.

Johnny really related to that. That was why it was important to him that he and Jason remained on good terms. He never once interfered in any matter concerning the Corinthos-Morgan organization and Jason never interfered in any manner concerning the Zacchara organization. He saw Jason with Amalia sometimes when he went to pick his daughter up from Morgan's house, and he was perfectly nice to the little girl, seriously answering her many questions including why he chose to wear a leather jacket when it was eighty degrees outside.

Despite all that, Johnny and Jason had never truly been friends. They got along well enough, even had a few meaningful conversations that they each took something from. It was because Jason Morgan was such a level-headed, noble man with a strong sense of justice that Johnny and Claudia vowed to help keep Jake's paternity a secret and keep others from finding out.

Now that it was all out in the open, Johnny wanted to be able to say something to Jason. He wanted to be able to help him, but after all, this was supposed to be a shock to him. He wasn't supposed to have known, and he knew Jason wouldn't take news to the contrary very well, especially at a time like this. So Johnny had no choice but to hold back, keep his distance, and remain on the outside looking in.

He stood several yards away from Jake Webber's hospital room and looked over when the door finally opened. Amalia had been sitting with him for at least two hours and finally emerged, looking exhausted and hungry. She closed the door softly behind her and met his gaze instantly, and father and daughter just stared at each other across the hallway.

Amalia pushed herself away from the door and walked toward him slowly, and he matched her pace. Johnny looked down at her, his expression unreadable but his voice gentle. "You knew all this time and you said nothing?"

The corner of her mouth curved up sadly and she took his hand for a moment before letting it go. "Oh, Daddy, please don't look so surprised. It insults us both."

He let out a humorless chuckle at that and nodding, turning so that he was next to her. They walked down the hallway side by side, away from Jake's room.

* * *

**.: Private Waiting Room :.**

Cameron walked into the little-known waiting room and, finding it dark, flicked on the light. Elizabeth and Jason were curled up on the couch in the corner. Jason was slumped in his seat with Cameron's mother drawn into a small ball and cuddled up against his side, his hand heavily slung around her waist.

He offered them a small smile. "Thought you guys might want an update. Mike's heading in for his first round of chemo. His mom and dad are with him. Er, both his fathers."

Elizabeth squinted against the light so he turned it off. Light still filtered in through the windows toward the ceiling, and Cameron closed the door and walked toward them.

"You guys, uh, want something to eat or drink?" He felt like he needed to say something to them but couldn't for the life of him figure out how to make this easier or less awkward. "Moll's about to make a sandwich run. Anything you need, just let me know. Anything at all."

His mother uncurled and gingerly set her feet on the floor, but Jason's hand remained on her hip. She licked her dry lips and her voice when she spoke cracked from little use.

"You knew?"

Cameron sucked in a breath and let it out through his nose. He knew that would be the first question she asked – it was only logical, of course – but even all these hours later found him ill-prepared to answer.

"Yes."

There was no mistaking the anguish in Jason's eyes at his whispered answer. "And you never said anything?"

Cameron's sober brown eyes found his mother. "I wanted to tell you, Mom. I wanted to tell you so badly."

Her eyes filled anew with tears. "Then why didn't you?"

He shrugged, more to relieve the tension in his shoulders than because he didn't know. He knew. He'd known since he was eight years old and his brother walked into his bedroom with tears in his eyes.

"Because Jake was my brother. It didn't matter if we had different fathers, it never mattered that mine was dead and his wasn't with us. He was my brother and he trusted me. I was the first person he told, I saw firsthand how it upset him, how he struggled to deal with it."

Her tears were flowing freely now. "How he struggled with it? Cam, he wouldn't have struggled with it if you had just told me. We would have dealt with it together as a family, you, me, Jake, Jason and even Lucky."

Cameron shook his head. "You don't get it, Mom. He wasn't ready for it to come out. If I told, he would never have forgiven me. He would never have let me help him in any way. Telling you the truth was the best way to lose any connection with my brother for good. He was always angry about it, but even more than that, he was afraid. He didn't want this to come out, he didn't want to have to deal with it openly. It was always much easier for him to bait you, Jason, for him to screw with you and run away secure in the knowledge that you wouldn't say anything and neither would he."

He swallowed and shook his head again. "Don't you see? He knew you'd take your secret about him to your grave. He wanted to take his secret about you to his. He never wanted this out in the first place."

"But how could you not have told me?"

Cameron sighed. His mother was still stuck on that one point, and he didn't blame her. This past week had been an absolute nightmare for her. "Because he's my brother, Mom. Because he couldn't come to you with this. He couldn't come to Jason. He couldn't come to Pop. So he came to me, and I'd die before I betrayed his trust."

He shrugged again. "He's my little brother. And I'll always take up for him first when I see that he's in trouble, when I see that he doesn't know what to do. We all did the best we could."

Cameron looked across the room at Jason and nodded once to himself before turning away, the movement so slight it was almost imperceptible. "We all just did the best we could."


	41. The Dreams In Which I'm Dying

**Note – **Again, the procedure Cameron describes regarding the marrow donation and transplant is not accurate. The screening process is actually much simpler and faster. More information was posted in the Cheat Codes when the first chapter regarding marrow donation was posted. And holy CRAP, this is a long chapter.

**-Mean-**

**-40-**

_I find it kind of funny_

_I find it kind of sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying_

_Are the best I've ever had._

-- "Mad World," Gary Jules

**.: General Hospital :.**

"The transplant was a success." Cameron stood next to Patrick, his chin tilted proudly up. Both doctors had been on call or otherwise in the hospital for the past twenty-four hours and were dressed casually, looking rumpled and exhausted but relieved. Patrick wore his black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a racecar on it while Cameron wore his dark jeans and his favorite _It's Never Lupus _shirt; to anyone else, they wouldn't have even looked like doctors at that moment.

"Mike's resting comfortably and we expect him to be up before long," he continued, nodding at Carly and Jax. "This procedure is a simple out-patient one, usually; he'll be on his feet in no time and I see no reason why he can't go be up and about tomorrow or the day after at the absolute latest."

Elizabeth sat on the little couch with Jason at her side, both of them looking even more exhausted than the doctors that had been working almost continuously for the past day. She lifted her head a little and managed to croak, "And Jake?"

Cameron's eyes were warm and gentle. "He's still under right now but we expect him to wake within the next couple of hours. We're keeping him a little longer for observation, but at this point we're out of the woods. He's going to be just fine, Mom."

But they all knew, given the events of the past day, that he wouldn't.

* * *

**.: Jake's Hospital Room :.**

Elizabeth didn't bother turning on the light when she entered her son's room. She closed the door softly behind her and moved on silent feet to his bedside, tracing her fingers idly over the soft blankets. Jake was fast asleep, and the moonlight streaming in through the open blinds cast bars of light and shadow over his body.

Like prison bars.

Elizabeth moved slowly to his side so that her shadow fell across him, breaking through those stark bars. She reached out slowly, her hand hovering over his eyes for a minute before she brought it upward and gingerly touched his hair. It was stiffer than usual, making her absently wonder if Jake used conditioner that wasn't supplied at the hospital. It was a silly thought, but she didn't care.

Her little baby.

She tangled her fingers in his dark, sandy locks, so much like Jason's around the time that Jake was born. She twisted the hair around her fingertips gently, then pulled her hand back and lightly trailed her fingertips over his cheek and jaw. His light stubble bit into her soft skin and Elizabeth stopped at his chin, gently cupping it in her hand.

Jake had strong features. A straight nose, not small and a little wide like hers, slightly pronounced cheekbones, and sharp eyes. He got those from Jason, no doubt about it. His ears when he was a kid were always a little big, and Elizabeth heard Carly joking to Jason once when they thought she wasn't there that hopefully Jake would grow into his just like Jason eventually did. His pouty lips – she wasn't sure who he got those from. Cameron had them, too, so maybe it was from her. But then again, it could very well have been his father, too.

Elizabeth let out a slow, soft breath and let go, her hand falling slack at her side. Slowly, so slowly that she could practically feel her bones creaking, she eased herself down into the chair by his bedside and sat, just watching her son sleep.

* * *

Cameron wanted Jake to wake up. He wanted to talk to him, to tell him what happened and how everything changed. He wanted to know what Jake was going to do, how he felt, if anything was ever going to be the same again. Cameron wanted to know a lot of things, but the only man that could let him know for sure was still asleep.

He should have been up by now. The sedatives were wearing off and he wasn't on anything else that might cause him to stay slumbering. His vitals were good, although his blood pressure and heart rate were just a little elevated, and enough time had passed since the operation. Hell, even Michael was up now and hungrily scarfing down the sandwich he made his little brother get him from Kelly's. Smart move, the food at the hospital totally sucked.

He cleared his throat a little louder than he needed to as he took down notations in his chart. That was a nurse's job, of course, but Morgan, Chase, and Penn agreed that it would be wise to limit the people that came in to see Jake in any capacity. Patrick and Cameron handled the medical concerns that arose along with Nadine since, obviously, they weren't about to put Elizabeth on the case. Two orderlies were allowed in to change the sheets and carry out the rest of their duties, but they were searched before and after they left the room just in case they had obtained any digital pictures or other paraphernalia that might be damaging to Jake as he recovered. Other than that, just his friends and his family were allowed to visit.

Molly had put together another press conference starring her sister, and Kristina explained the circumstances and announced that the transplant had been a success and Jacob Martin Webber was expected to make a full recovery. When reporters wouldn't let up on the subject, she acknowledged that Jacob Webber was indeed the son of alleged racketeer and hit man Jason Morgan, but that she would give no other comment on the situation and anyone who attempted to get too close to the family would be restrained and charged accordingly due to pronounced concerns for her client's safety. Molly convinced her to add that Mister Webber would consider giving interviews once he was fully recovered, even though anyone who knew Jake would know better, just to get some of the particularly zealous media men off their backs.

Cameron cleared his throat again, loudly, and watched his brother keenly for any reaction. Jake frowned slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching just so, and turned his head away just a fraction of an inch.

He set the chart down on the counter, letting it drop with a loud clack. Jake turned his face away more, grimacing now, but dozed on. Cameron grumbled under his breath and scowled down at his brother, hoping that the never-ending stare would wake him, but when that didn't seem to work, he picked up the stuffed giraffe from the nightstand. Cameron turned it over in his hands, examining the old thing, and then reached out and bopped his brother on the nose with it.

He set it down just as Jake's lashes fluttered and in a moment his brother was blinking against the light.

"Good, you're up," Cameron smiled gently, picking up his chart once more. "We figured it was about time. How do you feel? Want some water?"

He poured him half a cup of it when Jake nodded and added a straw, holding it to his lips as he drank. Jake turned his head away and Cameron pulled back, watching him lick his lips and clear his throat. His voice when he spoke cracked just slightly from little use.

"What day is it?"

"It's Tuesday. A little more than a week since you stopped in to see me for more Vicodin."

Jake touched his head gingerly and found his hair shorn short. "What happened? What – What was wrong with me?"

"What do you remember?" Cameron asked gently, taking a seat next to him. He was an inch taller than Jake when they both stood, and his brother sometimes joked that he hated looking up to him and only did so because he had to. It was a loaded remark in any context.

He swallowed roughly. "I – I was with Morgan. He was bitching about something. Pills. He wanted me to get a refill."

"That's right," he nodded slowly. "What else?"

"You and Moll, you were in the clinic." Jake's brows furrowed as he thought. "I…You were talking to me about something, but I can't remember what. I remember a really bright light, and my head hurt real bad, and I think I…threw up? Before I passed out?"

Cameron nodded once. "You had an aneurysm. Just like Grampa Jeff when we were kids. The difference was, we got you into surgery in time. Mal's dad operated, got rid of a lot of the blood and alleviated pressure on your skull."

He swiveled around in his seat a little, unable to hold still. "We discovered your low platelet count after that. You had Thrombocytopenia."

Jake closed his eyes. "Cam, you know I barely understand that terminology. Just tell me what happened."

"You needed a bone marrow transplant. Preferably from a relative."

His eyes shot open and he turned slowly and looked at his brother. "From a relative."

Cameron nodded grimly. "Oh, yeah."

Jake winced. "What happened?"

His brother sighed heavily. "Well…I had my fellows start combing through the registry while we figured out who needed to be tested. I underwent the procedure, so did Mom, and Pop, too. Obviously, Pop did it for show. To keep up appearances."

He cleared his throat again. "I wasn't a match. It happens sometimes. Pop obviously wasn't. Mom was, but because of her blood pressure, she wasn't viable as a donor."

Jake was watching him carefully with almost a fearful look in his eyes. "So what happened then?"

Cameron licked his lips and looked away. "I made a tough call. We all did, actually. Morgan was for it, so was Moll, and Amalia was actually the first to get in line. I, uh, I told Mom and Jason the truth and told Jason not to let his fear of disrupting your life stop him from getting tested."

His lips thinned. "So they know?"

"Yeah."

"…How much?"

"All of it," he sighed wearily, forcing a small smile. "I told them that you knew Jason was your father, that we've known since we were kids."

Jake swallowed again and stared at the ceiling. "What happened then?"

"Jason took it pretty hard-"

"Not to him," Jake interrupted loudly. "To me. What happened to me, then?"

"Moll and Mike. They happened." Cameron's smile was truer, brighter, now when Jake looked at him. "It hadn't even occurred to me to get Mike tested. Didn't occur to anyone else, either. We all spent our whole lives trying not to let on that you were cousins that when the time came to use that information, we weren't any good. Moll had been prepping Mike and they paid a nurse off to get him tested. He was a match, and we went ahead with the transplant immediately. And here we are."

"Yeah." The corner of his mouth twitched, his smile sad. "Here we are."

"Yeah." Cameron rubbed his palms together. "So what happens now?"

Jake looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"What happens now?" he repeated, a note of urgency striking his voice. "Mom knows. Jason knows. All of the others – they all know. What happens now?"

"Now?" Jake swallowed roughly and stared up at the ceiling again. "…Now we just go on living our lives. Business as usual."

Cameron stared at him, bewildered, but slowly came to realize that he shouldn't have been. Jake's reaction had thrown him for a moment, but he slowly understood that it shouldn't have. Because for all of his tough talk, for all of his bravado, for all of his claims that he didn't want to be anything like the man that fathered him, Jake Webber was really Jason Morgan's son.

And he was just as afraid to talk about the truth as Jason had been all these years.

"Right," Cameron murmured, slowly rising to his feet. He dragged a hand over his brother's hair, tousling his dark locks just like he used to when they were kids, and nodded. "Business as usual."

Too bad he didn't believe a word of it.

* * *

"I'm not good at this."

Jason gripped the back of the chair by Jake's bed and worked his jaw. He'd spent the past day or so with Elizabeth at General Hospital. He hadn't left her side; he hadn't been able to. All he had wanted ever since he found out that his son knew was just to be with his family.

"I've never been good at saying things," he admitted, his voice rough and gravelly. His son was fast asleep, his breathing rhythmic, and still hadn't woken from the procedure. Jason had come in to see him not long after Cameron had left.

"And I've never been good at saying things when it really mattered." He closed his eyes, going over for the hundredth time every interaction that led up to Jake's conception, every interaction he'd had with his son since the boy was born and how most of those had been tainted by the ugly, ugly secret they all kept.

"You've known."

Those two words were the hardest he'd ever had to say.

"You've known this whole time." His vision blurred and Jason slowly shuffled forward, lowering himself into the chair by Jake's bedside. "I hoped – I actually believed that you'd never find out. That you'd go through life thinking that Lucky Spencer and Elizabeth Webber were your parents, that you wouldn't be touched by all the ugliness in my life."

His eyes trailed across his son's features, strong even in sleep. "I was wrong. You inherited all of it. I thought – I thought it was by accident, just a really cruel coincidence, but you probably had it all planned, didn't you?"

Jason leaned forward, covering his face with his hands. "God, you've known since you were _six_. Six. And you kept it to yourself all this time."

If he had looked up just then, he would have seen Jake's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed roughly, but Jason's eyes were still covered.

"I can't imagine what that was like for you." His eyes swam with tears as he finally lifted his head and gazed at his son. "You found out when you were a child. You couldn't have known anything that went into the decisions your mother and I made when we made you. And you – you kept that inside you all this time."

Jason let out a shaky breath. "Just like I did."

He stared at Jake, wishing he would wake up, wishing he would look at him, say something to him, anything. He just wanted to talk to his boy for the first time after all these years of fake conversations and pointed barbs and smoke screens.

He pushed himself slowly to his feet and approached the side of the bed, taking care not to disturb the wires and tubes his son was hooked up to. "You have to know something. You have to know that through it all, I loved you always."

Jason was barely able to get the words out and kept quiet until his voice didn't wobble and his vision didn't swim. "I loved you always. Not a day passed when I didn't think of you, wonder what you were doing and who you were with and what you learned in school that day and what you and your brother were doing that weekend. I woke up every morning praying you'd have a good day, and I went to sleep every night thanking God that you were a part of my world. I only wanted the best for you, and I knew that wasn't me."

He smoothed his son's hair back from his face, his hand trembling when he realized it was the first time he'd ever offered so mundane a gesture. "Wake up soon, Jake. Please wake up. We have so much we need to talk about."

Jason swallowed roughly and leaned down, pressing his lips to his boy's forehead. It didn't matter that Jake was a full-grown man, that this was decades after the fact: he was still Jason's little boy just like he was Elizabeth's, and that was something that would never change.

If not for the darkness and the steady hum of the machines, Jason would have noticed Jake's hands clench into fists when he kissed him. But when he straightened again and looked down at him, Jake had already forced himself to relax and his hands were limp at his sides.

A sound at the door had Jason look up as Cameron walked in, chart in hand, and the young doctor stopped in surprise when he saw his brother's father standing there. He looked back and forth between them and then gestured over his shoulder.

"I just wanted to – I could come back," he corrected, noticing how Jake had his eyes closed.

Jason sat down again and looked over at his son. "It's okay. He, uh…" He cleared his throat roughly. "He hasn't woken up yet. After the procedure or whatever. And his blood pressure is a little higher than it was before. Is that normal?"

Cameron watched Jake, knowing he was awake from the way his chest rose and fell. He was a good actor, but the doctor in him had been monitoring his breathing very closely during the past week and he knew better. He bit his lip and looked back at Jason.

"We've been monitoring his blood pressure; at certain times of the day, it's been known to spike. And he awoke earlier and asked to be sedated," he lied, hoping that Jason wouldn't be able to read the regret in his eyes. "Said it was the only way he'd be able to get some real rest."

Jason nodded and looked away. "Okay."

* * *

Carly sniffled through her tears and ran her thumb over Jake's knuckles. Since she came into his room a little while ago, she hadn't once let go of his hand.

"And I remember how proud he was the day you and Morgan graduated from high school, and then again from Yale," she smiled. Her voice wobbled and cracked, but she didn't care. "He turned to me and said, 'he's going to make something of himself. He's going to have it all. And he'll do it the honest way, the safe way, not like me.' But, you know, the only thing your father ever really wanted for you was that you'd have a good life. A good, happy, safe life. Unlike his life."

She rubbed her nose with the back of her free hand. "You know, he didn't tell me that you were his when your mom was pregnant. He didn't even tell me when you were born. He didn't tell me when he gave you away. I found out through his lying slut of an ex-girlfriend because she wanted to get back at your parents. That's all Sam wanted ever since she found out that you were his. She sat back and let an unstable woman kidnap you, knowing that she could have flipped out at any second when she realized that you were a little boy and not the little girl she lost in a fire and dumped you in a lake or something. She hired two armed men to hold you, your mother, and your brother at gunpoint, then admitted to Jason that she wanted to scare Elizabeth away from him, that she wanted to scare him away from claiming you. And it worked."

Carly gazed down at the man she had known since he was an infant. "I found out through that psychopath that my best friend had a son that he couldn't see. I fought him and your mom long and hard on that one, but then realized I was wrong when my son got shot because of what his father did. I never wanted that to be you. I'd watch you come over after school almost every day with Morgan and leave at sunset without a guard and think, thank God. He gets to be normal."

Her smile was sad and lop-sided, and the tears just wouldn't stop. "But you were never normal, Jake, were you? I think we all knew that, ever since you were a kid. There was something different about you. I guess we know why, now. You could see it in your eyes even back then, in your smile, in the way you carried yourself. You were always thinking, always two steps ahead of everyone, always so serious, always so focused. So much like your father in every way."

Her thumb moved rhythmically back and forth over his hand. "He was always so proud of you, you know. Parents always are. But you never had to even do anything for Jason to be proud of you. And Cameron, too. He said that you were growing up into a good man, that you had a bright future ahead of you, that there wasn't a thing you wouldn't be able to do, and if you got to do all that because he wasn't a part of your life, then it made it just a tiny bit easier for him to deal with that decision. He dealt with it every day of his life since you were born, you know. Being a father changed him in the best and the worst ways, all at the same time.

"He wouldn't listen to any of us when we told him to claim you. He worried about your safety, about his enemies using you against him, about you getting hurt or worse because of him. And no matter how much it hurt, how much we pushed him, he always put you first and never backed down. I give him so much credit for that. It might be asking a lot, but I hope one day, you do, too."

Carly looked over when she heard a knock on the door, and managed a smile when her husband poked his head in.

"Hey." Jax smiled kindly at her. "I was looking for you. You okay?"

She nodded, having yet to let go of Jake's hand. "Yeah. Why? What's up?"

He held up his phone, flashing her a regretful look as he moved into the room. "We have a little situation down at the MetroCourt. I have a car waiting downstairs."

Carly nodded. Reluctantly, she stood from her seat and wiped her tears away with both hands, moving past him for the door. "Give me a minute to wash my face. You coming?"

Jax nodded, standing at the foot of Jake's bed. "Yeah, I'll meet you by the elevators, all right?"

His wife left the room, leaving him alone with Jake. Jax cleared his throat awkwardly and looked down at the young man, and slipped his hands into his pockets.

"Jake Webber." He tilted his head to the side. "Jake Morgan, rather. You've known this whole time."

He shook his head and drummed his fingers on the bedspread. "I don't know what to make of it. I don't like how you've effectively played Jason all these years, and your mother, too. You never planned on staying with my company after graduation. Partnering up with Morgan – it wasn't something that accidentally fell into your lap as my sons would have me believe. It was something you'd planned on, schemed to get. Perhaps not at the exact time you did, but down the line."

Jax let out a sigh and looked down at Jake, his expression soft. "But on the other hand, I can't help but empathize with you. You were just a baby when all of this happened. Your parents made decisions – decisions that I didn't necessarily agree with, but didn't feel it was within my right to comment on in any capacity – about you and your life, the biggest decision about everything that defined you as a person, all without your consent or participation. And you found out about it at such a tender age. What else were you to do? They hid this from you, you hid that from them. Your response is entirely proportionate, to my way of thinking."

He pursed his lips together, still not sure why he needed to get this out, just knowing that he did. "My feelings about you won't change. And I think to a large extent, that's the problem for all of us. To me, you'll always be the boy that did his homework with my son on my coffee table, the boy that liked to practice his back swing with my most expensive set of golf clubs. We'll all always see you as a child, and that's why this is even more difficult for us to absorb. We're all locked away with our dreams and our hopes and our prejudices and our fears."

Jax drew away from the bed and turned toward the door. "I guess what I'm saying is that no one person is to blame here. We're all to blame in different ways. And it's messy and it's heartbreaking and it's wrong and it's enough to make you wish you could just cut yourself off at the knees to get away from it, but at the same time it's life. And I think what's most important is that you decide how to live yours without holding on to the shackles here, without listening to your demons and to your doubts and your insecurities, the nagging feelings that keep you up at night."

His hand was on the knob and Jax looked at Jake one last time, sleeping peacefully or pretending to. He wouldn't have blamed the boy one bit for feigning sleep while Carly sat at his side with his hand in a vice-like grip.

"If you can find a way to move past your anger and your resentment, how ever deserved or not, that's not the argument here, and if you can find a way to live a life that pleases you and fulfills you, then you would have won. And your father would have won. And I would hope that at that point, you'd be okay with both of you winning for a change."

* * *

"I don't know why I'm here."

Johnny Zacchara stood at the window, looking out over a sleeping Port Charles. He liked this view. It was why he stood on the hospital roof at almost this exact spot, one-legged on the ledge, lording over the town and those that scurried around underneath his feet. He'd come to the roof one night when his daughter was a teenager and found Jake doing the same, standing on the ledge with his hands in his pockets, just looking out over the town with the oddest expression on his face, a perfect mixture of contempt and wonder.

"But I always felt connected to you in a way I couldn't hope to explain." He turned slightly and looked over at Jake, whose eyes remained closed.

"Amalia was part of it. Your mother and my wife were a part of it – their situations were always very similar. They unexpectedly found themselves expecting, and the fathers were two men that led very dangerous lives. Nadine chose one fork of the road, your mother chose the other. I never agreed with it. I thought it was a damned foolish thing to do, reprehensible, even, but I was pretending at the same time not to know, so my opinion stayed with me."

He looked outside again, watched the lights twinkle below him. "You've always looked up to me. I know that. You've always watched me, always studied me, always tried to imitate me. I found it touching when you were a kid, heart-breaking when you got older. You did the same with Jax, to some extent, and with Patrick."

He tilted his head back, looking up at the moon and if Johnny had turned just then, he would have seen Jake watching him in much the same way as he used to. "To my way of thinking, you've taken something from each of us. Probably because you didn't feel you had a dependable father figure when growing up. And I've met Lucky Spencer – I don't fault you for feeling that way at all.

"I like to think that from Patrick, you learned true dedication to a craft. You learned that single-minded, almost obsessive-compulsive focus that makes him so great at what he does. But you also learned how to be cocky from him. Well, perhaps I shouldn't say that. You learned how to 

take pride in what you do, not to let anyone knock down your accomplishments, to own up to everything you do.

"From Jax, I'd say you learned patience. You learned how to bide your time, wait things out, and work a situation to your advantage. He's a nice enough man in his everyday life, but an absolute shark when it comes to business. You learned from him how to look at a situation from all different angles and then act when you were sure you'd have the upper-hand. You learned how to carry yourself as a high-society figure while not letting superficial friendships stop you from achieving your goals and turning a profit while you're at it."

Johnny clasped his hands behind his back, his stance squared. "From me…sometimes I think you learned that it was okay to be a little reckless. I can't figure out if that's a good thing or not. All I know is that it worked for me. I wasn't afraid to put myself on the line when it mattered. Sometimes I think that's the only reason I have my wife and my daughter with me today. I made choices and I stood by them. Just like you made a choice when you were six years old, to keep the secret about your father like he kept it about you. Like we all kept it in one way or another."

He could feel Jake's eyes on him now but didn't want to spoil the moment by turning around and catching him. "I can't say if that's a good thing or not. Can't say if I agree or not. Can't say if you should have or not. Every man does what works for him – because at the end of the day, you're going to look at your relationship with your father, with your mother, with your brother, even with yourself, and it's going to be what you made of it. And you're the one that's going to have to live with that. That's all any of us can do: just live with it. Just live."

* * *

"You haven't talked to him yet, huh?"

Jake shook his head. "He doesn't even know I'm awake. That I have been awake for a while now."

Molly smiled one of her enigmatic smiles and shook her head. "You can't keep it up forever. You're gonna have to talk to him sooner or later."

"No, I won't."

She couldn't help it and laughed at his stubbornness. "Oh, yeah? Tell me, big-shot, how do you figure?"

"Well, that's where you come in."

Molly rested her elbows on his bed and used her hands to prop up her chin. "Yeah? And what am I supposed to do?"

"You're going to switch around the schedule on the hospital server to make it look like I'm getting tests done or in therapy or whatever else you can think of," Jake explained with a smile. 

"And then I'll pay off two of the nurses to move me to another room for a few hours. When I come back, I'll understandably be tired and out like a light. Very small window for Jason to ambush me."

She rolled her eyes. "And I'm going to help you?"

"Yup."

"Lie to your mom for you?"

"Yup."

"All so you can avoid talking to your dad, yeah?"

"Yup."

Molly arched a brow at him playfully. "And why am I going to do this for you, again?"

"Because you're my go-to gal," Jake smiled back. "You're the one that saves me when I'm in over my head."

"Yes, but this time you're in over your head, and it's your own damn fault."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Like that's ever stopped you before."

"True, true."

* * *

"So you, young man, have turned out to be my great-grandson." Edward Quartermaine's head bobbed as he nodded at a sleeping Jake. "It's not the first time a little-known ladder-climber turned out to share my blood, and I dare say it probably won't be the last, although they'll have to hurry if they're going to make the 5:15 Inheritance Express before I pull out of the station for good. And you've known all along about this, have you? Never saying a word? Sneaky little devil…"

His shuffling steps were loud in the otherwise still and quiet room as Edward moved around the bed until he stood at Jake's side. The old man stood tall and stiff, his hands clasped together on his cane in front of him, making no move to touch the young man and instead staring down at him with the eyes of a hawk.

"All your life, you've lived the secret that my grandson and Elizabeth chose for you. You never stepped up and dispelled the lies, even if it might have meant getting your family together. You never told your mother that you knew and ended her quiet suffering. You never absolved your father of what I imagine to be his tremendous guilt by confessing what you knew. You lived with 

the secret and you lived that lie, but you made the most of it. And you did it your own way, all under the guise of an all-American boy living out his American dream."

His beady eyes never left Jake's face, illuminated by the moonlight that streamed in through the open blinds.

"You decided you didn't want to be a no-name son from a lower-middle-class family. You decided that you didn't want to be passed over, ignored by people like me who had more money and more power and more status than you could reasonably hope to attain. You decided that you'd strike out on your own and by hook or by crook seize control of all the assets you believed your father to have chosen over you. You insinuated yourself into his business, shamelessly using your connection to that Corinthos boy that bears his name. You worked your way deeper and deeper, higher and higher, until the organization couldn't run without you. And then when the moment was ripe, you signed your name on the dotted line and took over with your friend, but this time you called all the shots openly. And you didn't give a damn about what your father thought, how hard he worked and how much he sacrificed so you could have a good, clean life, the kind of life he always wanted for you."

The corner of his mouth curved up in a slow, wicked smile lacking any and all illusions. "How very Quartermaine of you."

He tilted his head to the side as he gazed down at the young man that inherited his late wife's eyes, as plain as day, but didn't let himself wonder why he hadn't seen it before.

"I don't take back what I said about you that day," Edward stated gruffly. "The day you tried to steal my company out from under me. Cunning little viper. I stand by what I said. But I do acknowledge what my other great-grandson said to be true: I find your tactics much more amusing in retrospect. I am proud of them – in retrospect. Because it's true Quartermaine behavior. You were working to your own advantage, as you should have been. It was a good, sound move to try to buy me out when ELQ was in a weakened state. And in addition to all that…I now understand why you wanted it. It was your right. Your right by your very birth, by the very fact of your existence."

And then, for the first time since he entered the room, Edward reached out and gently let his hand graze the young man's face. He traced a gentle line over his forehead, as if anointing him, and nodded.

"And that is why, when you are well again, you shall be my heir. You're the only one cunning and duplicitous enough to take my place. Yes, my boy, I think this is the start of something wonderful, indeed."

* * *

"It's a madhouse out there."

Jake smiled ruefully as Morgan slipped into his room. "You got the goods?"

His best friend looked up to make sure that the blinds were closed, then opened his leather attaché case and pulled out a salami on rye, extra onions, fresh from Kelly's. "Here's yours. Here's the mustard, here's a napkin, now shut up and eat."

Morgan ripped open his own turkey sandwich and sat back, relieved to finally relax after a long day of working and trying to dodge the rest of the adults and the paparazzi that swarmed the hospital gates. "Total madhouse."

"Yeah?" Jake asked around a mouthful of his sandwich. "As in?"

"The whole town – freaking out." He licked mayonnaise from his thumb and pulled out the cooler that Molly had hidden under Jake's bed. Cameron would have killed them if there was any beer in it, so Morgan pulled out two cans of lemonade and tossed one at his best friend. "Word's gotten out. It's all anyone is talking about."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Let 'em. Doesn't matter to me."

"Matters to your mom, though," he replied in his no-nonsense style. "Page six was set to print this huge report in the morning addition about her sordid affair with Uncle Jason and all sorts of sensationalist bullshit. Some of it was _really _bad."

He stopped eating and looked at him. "…What-"

"Stopped it from hitting the presses," Morgan replied instantly. "Don't worry about it. I got your back. But do realize that while I have some pull with the one stupid newspaper in this whole town, I can't do much else. This is big news – you're a national name."

"And only gonna get bigger after this."

He looked at him, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. "What do you mean? After this?"

Jake arched a brow. "You didn't think this was going to stop me, did you?"

Morgan lowered his sandwich, his gaze now distant. "Stop you? …No. I was hoping, though, that you'd take a little break."

"Can't take a break," Jake sighed, looking down at his lunch. He tore off a big bite just because he thought he should. "Can't ever stop."

* * *

Lucky Spencer stood by the door for a long time, just watching Jake sleep. The news was out now and there was no denying it anymore. This was the biggest thing to happen in Port Charles in decades, and everyone was talking about Jason and Elizabeth's affair and their secret love child and the path he chose for himself when he found out. And as much as it involved him, too, 

Lucky was pushed to the side. He knew that this would happen if the secret came out: he'd be tossed away like yesterday's trash. _Yeah, thanks for accepting the bastard as your own, but he's got his real father now. You can go. Don't let the door hit you on the way out._

He moved very slowly toward the center of the room, watching Jake's chest rise and fall. The sedative that Cameron had given him must have been a strong one.

Lucky rested his hands very lightly at the foot of the bed, unsure of what to say. He opened his mouth and for a long moment, no sound came out. And then, it was as if he couldn't stop himself.

"You had this whole thing planned."

His words sounded hollow in the empty room.

"Ever since your mother found out about you – ever since _I _found out about you, the real you, how you weren't my son…" He bit his lip and shook his head. "Do you have any idea how many sacrifices we made? How we lay awake at night, worrying about your safety and your happiness and your well-being? Do you have any idea how hard all those years were, how difficult it was to come to those decisions that we made and chose to stand by?"

Lucky scoffed in disgust. "Of course you don't. You only hear what you want to hear, know what you want to know. You were so…selfish, Jake. You found out the truth about your real father and instead of rising above it, instead of being a better man than he was, you decided you'd follow in his footsteps and be just like him. To hell with what it did to your mother, to hell with what it did to our family. God."

Jake's blood pressure increased slightly but Lucky didn't notice.

"I loved you like my own son. Did you know that? Did you ever stop and think about that? I loved you like my own flesh and blood even though I knew you weren't. But that doesn't count for anything with you, does it? You had this planned out all along. Everything became about Jason, Jason, Jason. God, you're just like your mother."

He shook his head again, his nails biting into his palms. "You had this all planned out from the start. None of it was an accident, was it? No. You knew from the beginning that you were going to be a mobster like your old man, to say nothing of the fact that the one that raised you was the police commissioner and vehemently opposed to everything that Jason does."

Lucky put his hands up in the air and backed away. "You made your choice, Jake. You made all your choices and what's done is done. Let's see what you do now, now that you've got hardly anyone left in your corner. Maybe you'll realize that you shouldn't have tried so hard to push away those people that chose you and fought so damn hard for you."

He sighed and cast one last look at him over his shoulder before reaching for the door. "Get well again soon…son."

Shaking his head at the irony of it all, Lucky Spencer scoffed once more and stepped out into the hall.

* * *

"From my little band kids." Mal smiled and handed Jake an oversized card signed by all of the kids in his charity band, along with some others from the community center that Jake and Morgan built together. "They want you to get well soon and then come around for another basketball tournament."

Jake smiled as he skimmed over the signatures and the funny little drawings. "Tell 'em I said thanks."

"You can tell them yourself," Cecily asserted with a smile. She finished arranging the several large bouquets of flowers that family, friends and associates had delivered to Jake's room and took her seat in her boyfriend's lap. "Cam says you're doing real well and he expects you to be up on your feet in no time."

Mal wasn't nearly as optimistic and regarded his old friend carefully. "…You been sleeping okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

"Jake…"

He rolled his eyes. "Look, it's just my nerves. A lot's happened in the past two, three days. I sleep enough."

Mal arched a brow. "What's enough? Two hours a night? You know, some people in this town actually think you have a crack problem, the way you run yourself ragged and never rest."

"Some people in this town are idiots," Jake scoffed. "And unfortunately for me, most of them have taken to congregating in this hospital."

Cecily managed a small, sympathetic smile. "Yeah. But, to be fair, you knew it would happen if this ever got out."

He braved a quick glance at them. "How bad is it out there?"

"The paparazzi are still crawling all over a two block radius," Mal sighed, scratching his head. "Let's see, a couple of them had a brilliant plan involving the roof, a camera, and some scaffolding, but Amalia's dad caught them and told them that stairs were a privilege and if anyone did that again, he'd throw them off the roof himself."

Cecily nudged him with her shoulder, smirking. "Let's see…Moll's still being harangued by the major news networks. She's got Oprah, Katie Couric, Barbara Walters, Diane Sawyer, Larry King, Perez Hilton, Anderson Cooper, hell, even Maury Povich salivating at her heels for the exclusive interview."

Jake groaned and let his head fall back on the pillow. "No Katie Couric – she's too peppy. Barbara Walters scares me, Diane Sawyer's soft filters hurt my eyes, Larry King looks like a frog, and I'm not even going to dignify Maury Povich or that Hilton guy with a comment. Here's an idea – let's make Oprah and Anderson Cooper fight to the death for it. Win-win…win."

Mal chuckled, knowing Jake was only kidding. Only the most extreme circumstances would find him on television, talking about his father and his paternity secret. He cleared his throat, sobering instantly. "They've, uh…well, the 'journalists,' and I use that term loosely, they've been going after your mother and Cam as well. The Commish, too. He's said to be holding a press conference at the station this afternoon. He would, too."

"My mom?" Jake looked up. "She's not – I mean, they're not – is she okay?"

"She's been keeping out of the limelight," Cecily told him quietly. "Just keeping out of sight, if never out of mind. We haven't even seen her much these past two days, to be honest. I think Jason's making sure that she…you know. That's she's all right."

He pressed his lips together and rested back against the pillows once more. "Ah. Good."

It was about time Jason actually took care of her instead of running in the opposite direction whenever there was trouble.

"You, uh…" Mal cleared his throat. "Listen, I know things are still pretty crazy and that you're still going ahead with this 'avoidance' scheme of yours, but…look, if you ever need to talk, I'm around."

Jake turned his head slowly to look at him, his brow dangerously arched. "Excuse me?"

Cecily looked away, not wanting to embarrass him, but Mal met his gaze directly. Jake was one of his oldest friends and as such, there was very little the youngest Webber could do to scare him. It had always been that way.

"Don't do that." He tapped his hand on Cecily's knee. "You know full well what I mean. With everything that's happened…Jake, you can't deal with this on your own. Even up until now, you didn't have to deal with it alone. You always had all of us – we all knew. You had us to confide in, some more than others."

He was thinking of Cameron, Morgan, Kristina, and Amalia, the four people that had always been privy to Jake's rage, his insecurities, and his anguish.

"Don't think that you can do this alone from now on, that you can live the rest of your life fending off all of Jason's attempts to talk to you, to know you." His brown eyes were solemn, his expression grave. "He was around often enough when we were kids – he used to come sit with us at Jake's sometimes, and he always tried to sit as close to you as possible. You think that now that he _knows_ everything is out in the open, he'll just back off? That he'll let you live your life, away from him?"

"Shut up."

"He won't," Mal cut in directly. "He'll be around all the time, waiting for the slightest moment to just be with you. You've spent your whole life avoiding what this man meant to you, you think it'll suddenly be easier now? You're going to need someone to talk to."

"I'll be fine," Jake bit off. "I've always been fine. I don't need a shrink."

"You should thank God you have one," he muttered under his breath. "Who else but an old friend would put up with a crazy fucker like you?"

Cecily giggled, and it was enough to make Jake chuckle. Even Mal was trying not to smile as he looked at the massive bouquets that lined all the flat surfaces in the room. After a long, comfortable silence, he finally gently tapped Cecily's thigh, requesting her to move so he could stand.

He walked over to the side of the bed, his hands in his pocket. "I have to go," he said reluctantly. "I've been putting off my next appointment for as long as possible. He's even crazier than you are, believe it or not."

Jake feigned curiosity and surprise. "I thought all you head-shrinkers were morally opposed to that word."

Mal smirked. "Yeah, well, I'm still the baby of the head-shrinkers' group here. I can get away with this kind of stuff."

He backed away and tipped his head in way of goodbye. "I'll stop by later with Spence and Mike. Maybe we can get a game of poker going or something. Think they'll let us smuggle cigars in here?"

"Cam would kill you," Jake laughed. "And then he'd steal all your cigars."

Cecily, who was standing at his side now, took his hand and pressed a sweet kiss to his temple, her long, blonde hair tickling his throat. "You get better," she pretended to command. "And just remember, no matter what, we're all here. We've been around for almost three decades – we aren't going anywhere any time soon. No matter how hard you might try sometimes to push us away."

Jake bit his lip and nodded, looking away as she moved past him. "…Thank you. Hey, do me a favor?"

Cecily stopped at the door, and she and Mal looked back at him. "Yeah?"

He grimaced and waved a hand around the room. "Take some of these flowers with you. They make me feel like I'm dying."

Mal rolled his eyes skyward and slumped against the doorframe. "That statement alone could have been my dissertation."

* * *

Patrick snuffled a sneeze against his shirt sleeve as Robin glared and waved at him to get away from the remaining bouquets. She could have sworn that there were more in here earlier.

"I'll just go," he whispered, pointing toward the door. "I'll just…go."

"Stay," Robin hissed. "You haven't visited him at all."

"I took all the blood out of his subarachnoid space," her husband hissed back. "If that doesn't say 'get well soon,' I'm fresh out of ideas."

"Patrick…"

"I don't have anything to say to him," he whispered back, softer this time. "Everything…Everything's been said. Everything's been done. None of it will do any good now. And he sure as hell doesn't need me giving him a hug and telling him he's a good boy. I'm going to go."

Robin nodded reluctantly, taking her seat next to Jake. "…Okay. Meet you in the cafeteria in a bit?"

"Sure. We'll meet up at the hub."

She waited until he closed the door before she sighed and looked down at Jake, who was sleeping peacefully. He sure did sleep a lot. Mal and Cecily reported him being up for a few minutes before going back under, and even Cameron said he only got a chance to have a few words with him.

"I can't imagine what's going through your head right now." Robin stopped and corrected herself. "What's been going through your head for the past twenty years. I imagine so much of it is anger and sadness, and so much of it is just…wrong. Because you were just a kid. And you only got one side of the story. I bet you found out just from eavesdropping on the adults around you. Patrick and I were very careful never to say anything that so much as hinted at this whenever Mal or Anna were around, but…secrets always have a way of coming out."

She laughed at that. "You know, I've spilled a couple secrets in my day. I told your uncle AJ – wow, it feels so weird saying that loud – I told your uncle AJ that Michael was his son. Your father didn't forgive me for the longest time after that – said that I was the one that took his son away."

Robin looked up and realized her mistake when Jake's blood pressure spiked. There were plenty of studies that suggested that the subconscious still picked up on verbal cues even during the REM cycle. She'd best be a little more careful about what she said. But after almost thirty years of being so painstakingly careful, she found that she just didn't care anymore. She couldn't.

"I told Nikolas that Spencer was his son and not Jax's, even though that broke Jax's heart, I know." She shrugged helplessly. "I just felt it was the right thing to do. Even though it makes me such a hypocrite."

She heaved a heavy sigh. "Knowing me, I would have pushed your mother to tell everyone the truth about you. Or I would have done it myself. I don't know if I'd have gone that far. But when this was all going on with you, I was pregnant with Mal. And Patrick and I – we were having difficulties, and I suddenly understood why a mother wouldn't want a child's biological father to know about said child. So I just kept it to myself. The fact that your father lives a dangerous life was also part of it. If I pushed Elizabeth in any way to tell, and she did, and you or Cameron got hurt because of it, it would be my fault and I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. So I kept my mouth shut. As you got older, it became about disrupting your life, too. Or so we thought."

The ticking of the clock and the beeping of the machine were the only sounds in the room, and a long moment of relative silence passed until Robin blurted out, "He was going to get tested."

She stopped as if unable to believe she'd said that. "He was going to get tested, you know. He was going to be the one to come out with it and say that he was your father, to Hell with anyone that had an issue with it. I was prepping him these past few days. He would most likely have been a match, anyway. And he would have saved your life."

Robin reached out hesitantly and brushed Jake's hair back from his face. She remembered suddenly the time that she and Patrick took their kids along with Molly, Spencer, Jake, and Cameron to the beach and how Jake resisted when she tried to slather SPF 30 on him. She'd brushed his hair back this way then, too, while telling him to hold still and let her do it.

"You and Mal are similar in a lot of ways I hadn't realized before," she admitted quietly. "He harbors some resentment about me and his father, too. About how I tried to push Patrick out of our lives. He says that I had everything that your mother would have killed for, and that I pushed it away and acted like a single mom without knowing what that truly meant, and all because I was selfish."

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. "He's probably right. I was and am selfish about so many things. But you have to know, Jake, that 'selfish' is one word that can never be used to describe your father. Because he couldn't even let himself be selfish about you. Anyone that knew Jason Morgan knew how much he loved kids ever since he raised Michael right after he was born."

Robin closed her eyes when the beep told her that his blood pressure spiked again. There was no way that Jake was in the REM state now, even though that meant he might be waking up soon. The boy was already awake and had heard everything she said. You could fake slow, steady breathing, you could fake eye movement, but you couldn't fake a heartbeat and its rhythm and its pace.

"Anyone that knew Jason Morgan would have known how it filled him with joy and love and hope to become a father. To you. To both of Elizabeth's children. Anyone that knew him would have known how it killed him inside-"

She choked on a sob and reached out, clutching his hand. "How it _killed_ him inside to give you away, to give Cameron away, to give Elizabeth away. It killed him, Jake. He was never the same. He was never the same man that I knew. There was always something missing, always something lost, and all of us…we knew that something was you. And it's time you knew it, too."

* * *

"So tell me a story or something."

Anna, who was lying on her back next to him, smiled at the ceiling. "What kind of story? A story with robot brothers named Jake and Cam?"

He rolled his eyes. "Why not?"

She laughed her familiar, husky laugh. Part of the reason that Jake used to love hearing Anna's stories – back when they were kids – was her voice. It was low and husky and full and just a little raspy, and he could listen to her talk for hours on end about nothing. It was how he put up with lazy evenings at the Jacks house listening to CeeCee and Anna prattle on about boys and makeup and kitten-toe sling-backs (whatever those were) and Brangelina. It was just such a different voice, and Jake always liked things that were a little different.

Anna folded her hands over her stomach and considered it. "I'll tell you a better story. A story about a boy named Jake."

"Can he be a robot? Because, seriously, you sold that first idea really well. Now I can't stop thinking about robots."

"No, he can't be a robot."

"Way to listen to the fans."

"Once upon a time, there was a boy named Jake. He was a secret son, and he had a secret father named Jason Morgan."

"…This better not be one of those stories with morals."

"Jake was…strong and brave and smart and he did things his own way. He always took his own advice and stood by his decisions, and that's how he got really wealthy and really powerful, and why people looked up to him and followed him around and did what he told them to."

"Well, I'm liking it so far."

"Then one day, the secret to which he owed so much of his success-"

"Debatable."

"-ceased to be a secret. His secret father wasn't a secret anymore, and neither was Jake." She closed her eyes now, her hands till resting flat on her stomach. "But twenty years of keeping that secret had changed Jake. It had changed him very much. He was still strong and brave and smart, but the secret changed him inside. It brought out his fear. He was still the boy he was all the way back when the secret began, and he was afraid."

Jake scoffed. "Heroes aren't afraid. Nice try, Anna in conjunction with every Disney story I've ever heard."

She ignored him. It was just what she did. "He lived his whole life keeping this secret a secret, living by its code, keeping it in the shadows of his heart and mind. But now it was in the light, and he didn't know what to do. Because for all his tough talk and all his brilliance and all his charisma and all his competence, our Jake was terrified of this secret."

Anna heard him swallow roughly but didn't open her eyes. It was so much easier to see things when the eyes were shut. "He was terrified of what it meant. Terrified of what would come next. He was terrified of not having the upper hand as he did when he was a child. Terrified of not having power. He had so much power now, more than he thought he would at this point in his life. He had power over men and machines and money. When he was a boy, he had power over his father. The power to hurt, the power to tease, the power to torture. But the revealed secret was a great equalizer, and Jake found that he didn't like being on an even field. His feet felt unsteady once on the ground.

"He was terrified of not having the ball in his court, not being able to control what happened next. All his life, he knew one thing to be true. In the face of knowing that his family was false, that his lineage on paper was false, that the love he'd once thought pure and granted, the love of his legal father, was false, he always knew one thing to be true. He knew that his real father would die before he revealed the secret. It was the _one_ thing he knew to be true. And since that no longer held, his equilibrium was thrown. He doubted everything, second-guessed it all, felt uneasy in his skin."

It was the truth, and she knew it. Mal might have been the psychiatrist, but Anna was the writer, the poet, the dreamer. She watched people ever since she was a child, seeing them for who they were as well as who they hoped to be, and when she knew people as well as she did her friends, there was very little they could hide from her.

"And he was absolutely terrified of doing the one thing he had never done in his life: talking about it with his parents. So Jake did what he did best: he changed things. He moved them around so that they suited him, so that he could feel in control again. He tried to make things go back to the way they were before the secret came out. He hid himself in a room, just like he'd hidden his secret inside his heart. He talked only to his closest friends, the ones that shared the secret with him. He remained closeted with his view of events despite the fact that other perspectives were now available. And he shut his father out by pretending to be asleep, just like before he would shut him out by pretending not to know the truth. That was how Jake lived his life, before and after the secret ceased to be a secret."

When she looked over at him, his eyes were closed. But she knew he wasn't sleeping or even pretending to. He was just tired. So very tired. With a sigh, Anna reached out and took his arm, leaning into him. He turned his head toward her just an inch, his little sister in every way that mattered, and she patted his shoulder.

"You get to decide if there's a happy ending or not," she whispered. "It's not for me to say."

* * *

"You're dangerous."

Spinelli leaned back in his chair, angling himself away from Jake as the young man slept on. "The men would say that when you were younger, when you were hanging out with Morgan at the warehouse. Those two guards that were there the day you and Morgan were shot at on the docks, when Mister Corinthos and Stone Cold were there, they said that. They saw you knock Morgan down before the first bullet even hit the wall and they said, he's dangerous."

He shook his head and looked out the window. "I used to laugh at them. I used to tell them, no, no, you got it all wrong. He's not dangerous. He's just a little rough around the edges. He's the youngest boy, he's got a noble, straight-arrow brother. Of course he's going to be like that. And he's an athlete. Heightened senses, and all."

Spinelli rested a hand on his thigh and his wedding band got a glint of natural light. "They saw it in you then. They see it in you now. It's why most of them follow you the way they do. The ones that you didn't fire, the ones that didn't quit. They look at you like you've got all the answers, like you'll never tell them wrong. Even though you're just like us – you make your mistakes, too."

He sighed and stared at the young man. "I guess it's different for me. I was around when your mom was pregnant. I found out that you were his. I was there when she remarried your…well, your…when she remarried the Commissioner. I was at your first birthday party. I held you in my arms when you were a baby. I watched Stone Cold – Jason. I watched Jason suffer first-hand. I saw his grief, I saw his inner turmoil. I saw his damn Box O' Pain where he kept your sonograms 

and your little blue hat with your name on it. No one knows better than me – and your mom – the kind of pain he went through in giving you away, in making the conscious decision not to be your father.

"And you…" He shook his head again. "You're dangerous. You played upon that secret, you played upon his anguish and his mental torture. For what? To bring him to his knees? Just seeing you smile at Lucky or – or walk down the neighborhood street at night without a guard, just seeing you play catch with Cam brought him to his knees. Every time he looked at you…God. And you used that against him."

His green eyes were dark and hard, making him look much older than he was. "I will never support you on that. I don't support you in this. What you did was wrong – it was torture. You're a psychological terrorist, you know that? Do you really want him to hurt that badly? Do you want to kill him inside? More so than he already is? Is that what's going to fix you? Fix any of this?"

Spinelli barely heard the door open, and he didn't notice his wife standing there, watching him. "This was a bad situation. You knew that. You exploited it and made it worse. And I never would have thought – I never would have thought that any son of my best friend's could be like that. Because I guarantee that if Jason raised you, you would have grown up better than this."

"That's his point exactly, though, isn't it?" Maxie arched a brow, expressionless, when he turned and looked at her. "Jason didn't raise him. He certainly didn't raise him to be better than this. So Jason doesn't get any say in the matter."

"This is his _son_," Spinelli ground out, jabbing a finger at the young man. "This is his _son_."

"The son he never claimed," she said plainly. "The son he had no right to – by his own choosing. So now that the 'son' didn't turn out the way Jason might have hoped, everyone gets to go cry about it? I don't think so. You've spent enough of your life crying over Jason, Damien. Maybe not literally, but you've taken on his burdens, shared his pain, supported him no matter what the cost to you or those you care about, and stood by him even when you thought he was wrong."

"That's what friends do."

"That's what sons do, too," Maxie pointed out calmly as he grew more agitated. "And Jason denied himself that. He and Elizabeth made decisions for Jake – decisions that didn't just dictate his life, decisions that defined him as a person. Can you imagine, growing up thinking that you were a Spencer, while the whole time you were actually a Quartermaine? They lied to him about who he was. And I know you think the two of them walk on water, but I think they're idiots. And I think they deserve this.

"Not all of it," she added when his eyes narrowed. "No parent deserves to feel like their son or daughter hates them. Not ever. But you remember, you championed Jason's selflessness and his nobility and his sacrifices. Take off those damn blinders. Don't fault Jake for keeping the same secret that Jason did."

He glared at her and stiffly rose from his seat. Maxie moved aside and let him leave the room, knowing he'd be heading to the cafeteria to drown his sorrows in orange soda. She'd join him with an extra big bag of barbequed chips, they'd talk, and their disagreement would be forgotten in the sense that they'd just agree to disagree. That was how it always went, and she counted on that. It was, she felt, one of the things that made their marriage so strong.

She looked at Jake one last time and, instead of immediately following her husband, closed the door and quietly made her way to the foot of his bed. Maxie wasn't entirely sure what she was doing – after all, she hated his mother and never really thought much of his father – but at the same time, she felt there was something she needed to say.

"Don't you listen to him." The corner of her mouth twitched upward. "He's been loyal to your father from the start, so of course he'll see it this way. As he should. But you're not dangerous, not the way he means it. You're smart and you're calculating and you do what you want, what you think is best, and you don't care what anyone else thinks. And the most important thing? You don't back down and you own whatever it was that you did. You've owned up to all the awful things you've done before, and I know you'll own up to this one."

She tilted her chin up. "Don't let anyone tell you there's something wrong with you before _you're_ ready to admit there is."

Maxie thought he was sleeping, and was stunned when the corner of Jake's mouth curved upward into a smug smile. He opened his eyes, and, seeing her staring back at him, winked. She chuckled, shaking her head at him, and left the room.

* * *

"I really thought I'd lost you."

His eyes were closed and he could feel her warm breath on his chin. Their fingers were linked and he caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, using the arm he had around her waist to pull her up flush against him, not leaving even a breath of space between them. It was always how he liked to hold her.

"I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye."

Amalia smiled and rested her forehead against his chin. "I was mean to Cam."

Jake pressed a kiss to her hairline, grinning. "He's a big boy. He can take it."

"He should be able to – he's had you for practice."

His hand crept up her side, up her ribcage, until his fingertips just barely whispered past the swell of her breast. "Ouch."

"Yeah, well."

They lay together on his bed for a long time in perfect silence, listening to the beats of their heart. Amalia had securely locked the door behind her and they still had about an hour and a half before Nadine was supposed to come around and check on him.

Jake rubbed his hand up and down her back in long, smooth strokes, loving how she melted against his side and settled there comfortably. She was warm and soft and pliant, one of very few people that he could actually let himself relax and rest around. Even back in high school and college, she was the only girl whose bed he actually fell asleep in after he took her, and Amalia would frequently have to wake him up, shove his jeans and shirt at him, and push him toward either the window or the closet when they were in danger of being caught. Their hook-ups at her place or his during the college years were much more convenient simply because Johnny Zacchara wasn't prowling around downstairs…although if he could have, he would have been.

His breathing shifted into slow, soft humming and Jake could feel the tension slowly draining out of his body, bit by bit. His sleep disorder, whatever it was, was still with him and he was having trouble getting any rest. Cameron told him that would slow his recovery but Jake didn't want any strong sedatives. His brother medicated him just a little, monitoring the dosage carefully, and didn't prescribe anything else no matter how much he wanted to. The drugs always made Jake feel off-center, and he knew how important it was to his brother not to feel weakened and compromised like that. It was a psychological issue more than anything else, but he didn't say that to Jake. He figured that on the inside, Jake already knew.

Jake breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent of jasmine and hospital soap, and his eyelids were starting to droop when Amalia inhaled sharply and propped herself up on her elbow, peering urgently down at him. Her hair fell in her face and around his like a curtain, and her eyes were blazing with need and worry and anger and what, he didn't know.

"I know you don't want me to say it," she said, her words tumbling out so fast that he almost couldn't understand her, "that you hated it when I said it before, and I know you despise the word, but I don't care. I have to say it, not for you, but for me. I love you, Jake. I love you so much."

His eyes widened at the raw power in her voice, at the force at which those words, those feelings, left her, and he reached for her immediately. He pulled her to him, clutching her tightly, desperately, wrapping his arms around her as she kissed him, pulled her so that she buried her face in the cavern of his neck, and just held her there, needing to feel her against him.

Jake closed his eyes and tangled a hand in her hair, turning his face into hers when he felt hot tears against the sensitive skin of his neck, when his own burned and pricked at the back of his eyes.

"I know, I know. I promise you, I know."

* * *

"Hey, kid." Cameron smiled at Jake as he let himself and Mal into the room. "How you feeling?"

"I've got a headache right here," he muttered, pressing down on the left side of his forehead. He closed his eyes and grimaced, rubbing at the spot as if doing so would alleviate the throbbing ache. "It won't go away."

"Let's take a look at the brain waves," Mal murmured. He had convinced his dad to hook Jake up to an electroencephalograph so that they could monitor him after the transplant, but he had ulterior motives, which Cameron was in on. They wanted to get a better look at the patterns of Jake's brain waves, which might have provided more information about why he couldn't sleep and why he had persistent headaches.

He pulled up the printout and together, he and Cameron studied it. "Check out the spike there. Elevated, not abnormal."

"No, no, it's fine during this time span," the immunologist agreed. "But look here – it goes crazy. The activity is just…wow."

"It's at intervals. Look, there's a definite pattern. Here are the recurring headaches, I bet. Jake, did you have a headache a couple hours ago?"

"Yeah. Wasn't too bad."

"And then another about…two hours ago?"

"Uh-huh." He winced and continued rubbing his head. "Wasn't that bad, either."

"You know, I bet Sloane would be able to get a really good analysis of-"

"Guys?" Cameron looked down in concern when his brother spoke again. Frowning, he pulled out his pen light and lightly brushed Jake's hand away so that he could get a look at his pupils.

"What is it? What do you need?"

Jake tried to turn his face away from the light. "I…I really can't sleep. I've slept, like, six hours since I woke up from the thing. Could you – do you think you could – sedate me? Give me something stronger? I really just…"

He sighed and looked up at his brother with bleary eyes. "I really just want to sleep."

Cameron nodded and squeezed his shoulder. "I'll give you something right now. It'll knock you right out, and you can get some rest."

* * *

It was dark and the moonlight streamed in through the open blinds. The light was turned off and Jake slept soundly for the first time in days. His heart beat was regular, his breathing was slow and even, and he finally _slept_.

Jason and Elizabeth sat together in one of the big arm chairs in the luxurious suite, just watching him. Jason was wearing jeans and a rumpled t-shirt and Elizabeth was in her scrubs, tucked against his side with her legs curled up and her arms wrapped around them. She watched her son sleep, gazed at the peaceful look on his face, even noticed the little red smudge below his ear left by Amalia's lipstick, the one item she used even when she wasn't wearing any other makeup.

She hugged her knees to her chest and looked up at him. "Do you remember the night he was born?"

Jason's eyes softened and he nodded. "All the time."

Elizabeth had to smile at that. The phrase had become a little joke between them, and she knew that Jason meant it when he said that he thought about Jake's birth all the time. "I would have lost him if you hadn't saved us."

He turned his face toward hers, his nose brushing against the soft hair at her temple. "Don't say that."

"But I would have," she insisted quietly, still watching her boy. "I'd have lost him. I might not have made it, either. But you got to us in time. You always did. And you made sure both of us were safe."

Elizabeth turned and rested her head against his shoulder and he gathered her up in his arms. "You always, always did."

"I always come when you call," he murmured, smiling slightly. He adjusted her legs so that they fell in his lap and pulled her closer. "When you were pregnant with him…wow. You never left my thoughts. I needed to be sure that you were healthy and safe. I always needed to be sure."

"You loved him his whole life," she replied softly. "Since the second you found out about him, you loved him more than anything. You would have been a father to him if I wasn't so afraid, if I didn't ask you to give him to me and Lucky."

"If I had figured out the right things to say." Jason smoothed his hand down her side. "I said all the wrong things. I made you think that you and Jake would have been second to – to Sam and what she wanted."

Elizabeth pressed her finger to his lips. "I don't want to talk about her. She has no place here."

"No," he murmured. "She never did."

Jason continued when she looked up at him. "Because ever since I found out about you and Jake, you were it for me. Before that, even. I fell out of love with Sam a long time before we broke up. I wanted you. Even before I found out that he was mine, I wanted you. But we never got our timing right."

"And timing is everything," Elizabeth got out quietly. Her fingers clutched his t-shirt, wrinkling it. "There was so much that I wanted to tell you then. I never wanted to hide that I was pregnant with your child. I never would have if I didn't have so much time to keep it a secret, think about it on my own. I remember reading the results of the paternity test and Sonny standing there, going on and on about how you weren't ready to be a father, and I just…"

"I don't want to talk about that." Now it was his turn, and Jason closed his eyes and rested his head on her chin. "You ever think…you ever think that at some point, we stopped acting for ourselves and started acting for all the people around us?"

"I've always been that way," she shrugged weakly. "Cam still tells me to this day that I need to put myself first for a change."

"No, I mean…" He struggled to find the right words. "As more and more people found out about Jake being mine, they got involved. They got involved in _our_ lives, in the life of _our_ child. And we let them. We discussed this with them, we rationalized it to them, we let them in."

"We made a mistake." Elizabeth rubbed her cheek against his shirt. "It got bigger and bigger and bigger. First it was just me. Then me and you. Then me and you and Spinelli and Lulu. Then Sam. Then Sonny and Diane. Then Carly and Jax. Then Patrick and Robin. Everyone. It got away from us."

"It got away from us." Jason lifted his legs up onto the chair, his grip on her waist tightening. "And what did it get us? We spent our whole lives apart for it. We only hurt ourselves. And our son."

They watched him sleep, the steady beeping of the monitor ticking off the steady beat of his heart. He was peaceful and serene in the moonlight, a happy illusion. Peace and serenity would be forgotten as soon as he woke and they all faced this.

Jason traced a finger down the line of her cheek and her jaw, tilting her chin so that she was looking him directly in the eyes. "Hey."

She smiled softly. "Hey."

"You know I love you, right?" When she nodded, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. "I've loved you always."

Elizabeth kissed him back slowly, deeply, and let her forehead rest against his when they broke apart. She wrapped her hand around his, holding it tightly, and let him pull her even more fully into his arms so that she sat half in his lap. She looked over at her son and sighed deeply.

"He's done nothing but sleep these past three days. I wish he'd wake up."


	42. Boys Soldier On

**Mean 41**

_Boys you can break,_

_You find out how much_

_They can take._

_Boys will be strong_

_And boys soldier on._

-- "Daughters," John Mayer

**.: General Hospital :.**

Jason slipped his hands into his pockets and looked around. Nadine and Johnny were standing at the hub several yards away, talking quietly as she reordered charts and took over some of Elizabeth's responsibilities. The senior nurse was holed up in a private hospital room with Robin, her oldest friend, just getting away from it all. Jason didn't want to make her feel isolated by feeling like she had to stay with him this whole time, and had backed off when Robin poked her head in, willing to let them spend some time together. Elizabeth needed all those that supported her, especially now.

Jake was away getting tests done. This had been going on for the past few days. He had asked Patrick about and the neurosurgeon informed him that he'd taken himself off the case now that Jake was fine, and that Cameron was once again the presiding physician. When he asked Cameron, the immunologist gave him a lengthy reply about Jake's headaches and sleep disorders and something about stress tests and serotonin levels and other aggression-depression related hormones. Jason thought there was something off with his delivery, but he hadn't known Cameron closely enough to know his subtle tells and had no choice but to accept his reply as the truth.

His son would come back from the stress tests or whatever they were completely exhausted and would be asleep before his head even hit the pillow. There would be no time for Jason to actually have alone with his boy. Time to just sit, talk, be.

He really just wanted to talk to someone.

Jason spotted Cameron's fellows rounding the corner and decided to follow them, knowing they'd lead him to wherever the young immunologist was. The two doctors entered a side office, one decidedly not belonging to the oldest Webber boy, and Jason caught the door and entered the room.

Cameron's back was toward the door but he heard his fellows enter. "Got the CT scan?"

The woman put it up on the screen and hit the light, illuminating the image of the esophagus. Cameron turned to get a look at it and saw Jason in the corner of his eye. He looked at him, paused for a second, and then gave him a little nod as if to say that he'd be with him in a minute.

"Right there," one of his fellows pointed out, directing his boss's attention to some kind of dark area on the image. "What is it? A granuloma?"

Cameron shook his head slowly. "…No calcification."

Regretfully, he took the scan down and held it out to the young woman. "This one goes to oncology. Get Merrick on it. We'll need a biopsy, but she has a family history of lung cancer, and that's most likely what this is. If we're lucky, it hasn't metastasized yet. Go."

He sent them out of the room and slowly faced Jason once they were gone. Despite the fact that he was a full grown man now and intimidated by very few, Cameron still didn't know how to act around Jason Morgan. He'd known him practically his whole life as Jake's father and Morgan's uncle and had even come to think of him as his almost-father. When he was a kid and Lucky would make him angry, Cameron would sometimes imagine Jason in his place and make up conversations between him and the enforcer, trying to figure out what kind of advice the older man would give him in different situations, that sort of thing. He grew out of it eventually when the futility became painfully clear, but the memories of wondering what Jason would tell him to do if his friend asked to cheat off his homework still stayed with him.

"What can I do for you?"

He cringed the second the words left his mouth. They sounded stark, professional, devoid of compassion, and he hadn't meant it that way.

Jason looked away, then back. He appeared uneasy, too, and for some reason that made Cameron feel just a little better. "I, uh, I was just wondering about Jake. About – about the tests you're running, what you can tell me, that sort of thing."

"Ah." He wished he had his clipboard with him. These things were always so much less awkward when there were things to hold and tap. "Well, we're still monitoring him carefully, taking multiple EEG readings, just to be safe. His headaches persist independently of the issues caused by the aneurysm."

"Yeah, yeah." Jason had heard all this before. "But what can you tell me?"

Cameron pressed his lips together. It was all a lie, of course. There were no tests. They already had all the information they needed. Jake was probably cuddling with Amalia or discussing business with Morgan and Spencer in a locked off hospital room while Molly switched things up on the schedule to make it look like he was booked.

"I can tell you that we're doing everything we can to make him feel better, to get rid of his headaches, to help him rest easier. Mal's – I mean, Doctor Malcolm Drake – he's been assigned to this case as well as our psychiatric consult and-"

"I know all this," Jason interrupted him. "You're not telling me anything new here!"

"What do you want from me?" Cameron fired back. Normally, it took quite a lot to get him to lose his temper like this, but he had been working continuously this past week and was running himself ragged, aside from being worried about his little brother. "I'm telling you everything I can."

"Doesn't seem like it."

"What do you want from me?" he asked again, his voice low and tight. "I already-"

Jason lifted his chin a notch. "I want you to tell me the truth. To tell me – something."

"Fine." Cameron took two steps forward until he was right in front of Jason. "You want me to tell you the truth? The truth is that I've been working my fingers to the bone these past two weeks so that I didn't have to think about how close my little brother came to dying – that I hit rock bottom so hard that I actually told you and Mom the truth about what we knew. That I disrupted his entire life by clueing you in to the one thing he wanted to take with him to his grave. That he was messed up enough because of it and I added a whole other world of trauma and psychological damage onto it just because I didn't consider all my options and told you, and now he has to deal with the fall out. Alone, because I can't any of that burden on for him like I want to."

Jason's eyes widened. "Cam-"

"You want the truth? Here's the truth." His lips settled into a grim line. "He forgets to eat. He can't sleep more than three or four hours a night. He has nightmares. He has terrible headaches that make it hard for him to even talk sometimes. And he can't ever stop. He can't ever stop working, can't stop running, can't stop _doing_ because he's so terrified that if he does, he won't be the best anymore, he won't be worth loving, he won't be worth anything."

He shook his head. "This has been going on for years. Since he was a teenager. And it finally caught up to him and he bled into his brain and almost died. And now he's up and in dire need of psychiatric help, which he refuses to get because he won't admit to any weakness, to any limitation, to anything that might make the people in his life think he's not worth their time, their attention, their love. How do you think he developed a complex like that?"

Jason withdrew a step, and that mask of stone descended over his features. His tried and true defense mechanism, but it was lost on Cameron who had enough to deal with his own. The young doctor was almost out the door before the part of him that was purely Elizabeth took over and he sighed, regretting his words and the way he hurt Jason.

Because the man standing behind him, looking so lost and afraid and angry all at the same time, was just like Jake. He was hurting just like Jake and bitter words wouldn't help this matter any. This part of the conversation had nothing to do with Cameron. Jake had proved that he could more than take care of himself in any altercation and didn't need anyone taking up for him, even his brother.

Cameron closed his eyes, his hand on the door handle, and when he spoke his voice was soft and rusty. "You want the truth? Here's the truth."

Jason turned his head just a fraction of an inch.

"…He's just as afraid as you are."

* * *

Carly ran a hand through her hair and slipped her phone back into her pocket, turning toward her daughter. "Listen, I have to run to the MetroCourt – I'm meeting your father there. Can you do me a favor?"

She looked up from the psychiatric review journal she'd borrowed from Mal's office. "What, Mom?"

Carly tipped her chin toward Jason, who was sitting in the waiting area with his hands clasped between his knees, staring at the floor. "Can you sit with Jason for a while? Just…help him? Be there for him?"

Cecily followed her gaze and the corners of her mouth tightened. "…I can't do that."

She frowned at her. "What do you mean, you can't do that? Go over there and just keep him company."

The young woman shook her head. "No. I have nothing to say to him that could possibly make him feel better. I doubt anyone does. He doesn't need me sitting next to him, holding his hand."

Carly balked at her daughter. "He is your _uncle_!"

"No, Mom." Cecily whirled on her, her long blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder. "He's not. He's not anything to me. He's _your_ best friend, and he's Mike and Morgan's uncle. Not mine."

Hurt flickered in her mother's eyes. "Jason loves you. He's always loved you."

"He loves me because I'm your daughter," she allowed. "I know that. He's always been good to me. But he's not my uncle, Mom. No matter how many times you say it, it doesn't make it true. I never had the relationship with him that Mike and Morgan do – never wanted it, to be honest. There was always a distance between us, and even as a kid I knew it was because I was Daddy's and not Sonny's. We don't have that connection."

She folded her arms over her chest, having inherited her father's rational capabilities and her mother's obstinacy. "And after I found out from Jake what Jason did, I couldn't even look at him for a couple years. And I was glad that I didn't have that bond with him that Mike and Morgan did. They felt conflicted all these years – they knew Jason and loved him and saw what a great father he could be, and they hated that Jake had to live his life without him."

Carly's eyes were glistening. "Look, we all made choices-"

"Yes," Cecily cut her off. "You all made choices. That's not an excuse, it's just a fact. It's not an excuse at all. Choices, choices, choices. Saying that everyone made difficult choices doesn't change the fact that Jake missed out on having a father even though his real one was just down the street half his life. I couldn't even stand to look at Jason for a while when I found out that he walked out of his own family but sat around so comfortably in ours. And I've never told Jake this, either, but I don't buy how he keeps his mother on such a pedestal because of this. It takes two people to make a child, to make decisions for that child. Having had one son already at the time, she should _never_ have slept with him if she was just going to cry about how dangerous his life was. Both of his parents made choices, yes. And they both now have to live with their choices and the devastation those choices caused."

Her hazel eyes narrowed and she shook her head. "So if you want me to sit with Jason and hold his hand and tell him that everything's going to be okay, I won't do that. He did this. Not on his own, no, but he was a big part of it. And I honestly don't have anything to say to him that indicates I feel otherwise. Tell Mike or Morgan to sit with their _uncle_, and please leave me out of it."

Cecily rubbed her temple and, shaking her head wearily, moved past her mother. "You know I hate it when you drag me into your drama for no good reason."

* * *

"You go sit with him and talk to him, because otherwise Mom is going to make _me_ sit with him and talk to him, and I don't want to sit with him _or_ talk to him!"

With those words, Michael Corinthos III found himself being pushed toward the waiting area by his little sister. She shot him a warning glare and backed off, presumably heading to her boyfriend's office to hide from their irate mother for a little while. Carly and Cecily always got into it when the stakes were high because they inevitably found themselves on opposite sides of the fence. Carly was on the side of the fence that wanted to do things, while Cecily was on the side of the fence that thought the fence was there for a reason and they should all mind their own business.

Yeah, dinner times were interesting at their house, back in the day.

"I've been avoiding you like crazy." Michael slowly lowered himself onto the couch next to Jason. "And I'm told it's time I grew up. By my little sister, actually, which lends some irony to the situation. Especially since she's off hiding from Mom."

Jason looked over at him but kept quiet, and they sat in silence for a long moment. Michael mimicked his stance, his hands clasped between his knees, head bowed. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Say something."

Jason didn't look up. "…Nothing left to say anymore."

Michael sighed. "Yeah."

"…There would have been, about twenty years ago."

He closed his eyes. "Don't do that. Please, Jason, don't do that."

His uncle had yet to look at him. "You knew all this time and you never said anything to me. You, of all people. You and Morgan, both of you. I've been around since you two were born. I was always a part of your life. I came over to dinner at your stepdad's house once a week, and I was around all the time, the whole time you were growing up. I would come over and sit down next to you, your brother, Jake, and Cameron, and you never said a word."

Michael, who had been subject to similar interrogations from Sonny, Carly, his Grammonica, Alexis Davis, Diane Miller, Damien Spinelli, the Giambetti brothers, and, of course, his great-grandfather, had long since had enough of the martyr routine the adults were all intent on shoving down his throat. He'd never been good with that sort of thing and nothing irked him more than when people failed to own up to their part in a given mess. It was a sloppy way to run a business, that, and to him, it was a sloppy way to run a life as well. That was what Jax had taught him since he was a boy.

"No, I didn't." He lifted sober hazel eyes to his uncle's, his expression just as stoic. "And I'm sick of everyone saying it was wrong of us. I don't even give a fuck anymore. All that matters is that Jake is alive, and guess what? It's because of his Quartermaine blood. Cameron wasn't a match and his mother couldn't be a donor – his Quartermaine lineage saved his life."

His thin lips curved downward at the corners. "What would have happened if you were away when Jake had his aneurysm? If you'd been out of the country for years like before? If there was no way of getting in touch with you? If you had no idea that your only child was dying, and that something inside of you could have saved him in an instant? What would have happened if none of us, our group, if none of us knew the truth and thought that Jake was Lucky's? What would have happened if his mother was all alone in this town and afraid of letting out this decades-old secret and asking me or – or Grammonica or, hell, even Grandfather to get tested? Huh? He would have died."

Jason's eyes blazed. "Stop it."

"He would have died," Michael repeated firmly. "All because of this secret you worked so hard to keep. The way I see it, any of you who are mad at us should be down on your knees thanking _God_ that we knew. Thanking _God_ that I knew since I was a kid that he was my first cousin, that we shared blood and marrow and the same grandfather, that Molly knew we were related and helped me get tested, that Lia was pissed off enough to take a stand, that Cam was on the case from the start and that Mal pushed the psych eval through as fast as he could, that Spence and 

Kay and Morgan were so quick to run damage control and stay on top of the press and the paparazzi. You should be thanking God that we knew and we acted the way we did, but instead, all anyone can bitch about is the fact that we didn't say anything."

"Because you should have!" Jason fired back. "Keeping it quiet the way you kids did, banding together and convincing yourself that you were doing something good – it was cruel. You all should have known better. Me, Elizabeth, Lucky – we all would have done everything differently if we knew that Jake knew. The past twenty years – they never would have been the way they did."

"Right," his nephew drawled, "so we're the reason that you and Elizabeth have been so miserable for the past two, three decades. Yeah, that makes sense. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the choices you both made, the difficult, difficult choices that everyone's been bitching about for the past week."

"Michael, I'm warning you…"

"The way I see it," he said, cutting him off effectively, "you shouldn't even be mad at us. None of you should. In fact…yeah, in fact, you should be thanking us."

A muscle ticked in Jason's jaw. "Thanking you? What the hell would we be thanking you for?"

His quiet, tight voice didn't intimidate the young man in the least, and Michael smiled thinly. "All of us were doing exactly what you wanted. We were keeping the secret quiet, keeping anyone else from finding out about it, just going about our lives as if Lucky really was Jake's father."

He tilted his head just slightly. "In fact, Jake was doing just what you had wanted. Just what you had done. Like father, like son, I suppose."

He sat back on the couch and didn't look at Jason, his gaze instead falling on two cups of coffee from Kelly's sitting on the table in front of them. A long moment passed before they spoke.

"I brought you some damn coffee."

"Not thirsty."

"Yeah, me neither."

* * *

Anna Drake loved hugs.

She'd loved hugs ever since she was a girl – giving them, getting them, even writing hugs when she was sending an email or instant message or a text on her sparkly red phone – but Jason Morgan had no way of knowing this. And that was why he was so surprised when he felt a tap on 

his shoulder as he stood outside Jake's room and when he turned, found himself somehow in little Anna's embrace.

He blinked, wondering what he should do as she gave him a squeeze, and settled on awkwardly patting her back. Her cheek was pressed against his worn leather jacket and he saw the slight imprint it left when she finally withdrew.

Jason shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Um…what was that for?"

The young woman shrugged. "You looked like you needed one."

It was a straight-forward enough response. "Oh."

She folded her arms and looked through the window in the door. "Still not there, huh?"

"Nope."

"He's probably getting some tests done."

The corners of Jason's mouth tightened. "Yeah."

"You gotten to see him at all since he woke up?"

"Yeah."

"Talk to him?"

"No."

Anna nodded slowly and tucked her dark hair behind her ear. "…Yeah, he's been pretty drained, from what I hear. Poor guy. But hey, at least he's being released on Thursday. That's something, right?"

Jason nodded. "Yeah."

"He gets to go back to living his life." She slid him a sidelong glance. "So do we all."

He leaned against the door, weary now. "Yeah."

With a sigh, Anna reached out and squeezed his arm. "Whatever that means, right?" The corner of her mouth curved up and she took a step back, turning. "Hopefully, you'll get a chance to speak to him before he bounces."

She was a few paces away when she heard him clear his throat.

"But you wouldn't hold your breath."

Anna stilled but didn't turn around to face him. She didn't think she could.

"…Probably not."

* * *

Elizabeth found him pacing the hallway outside Jake's empty room, snarling at the orderlies that bumped into him and looking incredibly agitated. She squared her shoulders and approached him, ignoring the looks she got from two of the nurses that passed her.

"Jason?" She caught his arm, blinked when he growled. "Hey. Jason."

His eyes were stormy and turbulent, blazing as he looked down at her, and Elizabeth didn't have to ask anything else of him. She pursed her lips, her grip on his arm tightening, and tilted her head toward the far end of the hall, toward the waiting room that was out of the way and rarely visited by anyone else.

"Come with me."

His shoulders slumped slightly and Jason let her lead him down the hall. They turned the corner and kept walking, and she looked both ways before she entered the waiting room and pulled him in with her, shutting and locking the door behind them. She didn't bother with the lights – she never bothered with the lights.

He heard her let out a sigh as he moved across the room, still wanting to pace.

"What happened?"

Jason threw his hands in the air and turned, nearly knocking over one of the small lamps. Elizabeth moved around him, knowing he had to let this out, and took a seat on the edge of a pale blue sofa.

"I can't see him," he got out, turning around again. "I can't see him and I can't talk to him and he's – he's getting tests done or whatever the hell else they want me to think, and he's always sleeping afterwards and I can't talk to him and I just…"

Jason scrubbed a hand over his face, his voice breaking on his son's name. "I just want to talk to Jake. About everything."

"I know." Her liquid eyes glimmered in the dark, and Elizabeth held her arms out to him. "Come here. Please?"

Jason looked down at her for a long moment, at her outstretched arms, and wearily drew nearer. He bent his knees and sat next to her, his shoulders slumping when Elizabeth pulled him closer, into her arms. She kissed his forehead, his cheek, his nose, and ran a hand soothingly through his 

hair as she lifted her legs onto the couch and pulled him with her so that they were half-sprawled on top of it. Jason sighed and buried his face in the cavern of her neck, and Elizabeth closed her eyes and just held him.

"You've always been so strong for me," she murmured, stroking his hair. "You were on my side when I doubted myself, when I hated myself. You helped me through some of the toughest times in my life as best you could. Even when you walked away, you were always there for me if I really needed you, and I knew that."

Elizabeth clung to him tighter, almost as if she hoped she could transfer some of her strength to his. "I'm here for you now. We'll get through this, I know we will. I know we will, Jason. And you know what? You know what I give thanks for right now?"

She shifted a little so that she could look down at him and found his eyes wet and anguished. "I give thanks for the fact that I still have you and you still have me. Twenty-five years later…here we are. And I still love you, Jason Morgan. I never stopped. Twenty-five years later, we still have each other."

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and was encouraged when he responded a little, then laid his head down on her chest again. Elizabeth shifted under him, resting her head on a pillow.

"And that's how I know we'll make it through this."

* * *

"So you're sure about Thursday? No more tests?"

Cameron shook his head, looking down at his chart again as he jotted down some last minute notes. "No more additional tests have been ordered. I don't plan to order any, either."

Jason and Elizabeth stood next to each other at the hub, looking up at him earnestly. "And his headaches? Have you figured anything out?"

"They're stress-related," the young doctor replied honestly. "It's all tied together, honestly. His insomnia, his headaches, stress, his anger and depression. He doesn't get much sleep, so he's tired. He's always working, so he's stressed. He's got…um…issues relating to depression, so there's that, and then he gets hit with the headaches. I will continue to prescribe him Vicodin for pain, and-"

"Is that – Is that at all dangerous?" Jason asked worriedly. "I mean…pills like that…"

"They're the same kind of pills your father became addicted to when he was much younger," Elizabeth informed her son quietly. "How worried are you that Jake-"

"I've been carefully monitoring his prescribed dosage and his refills since I put him on Vicodin," he replied calmly. Their concerns were valid ones, and he wanted to be able to at least lessen 

their fears in that respect. "Jake's careful, too. He's on the same dosage, he's never asked for more, which he would have if he took them so regularly that his body became used to them, and he usually lets a week or two go by before he picks up his refill. I'll be watching him even more carefully after this…"

He waved his hand helplessly. "After this, um, ordeal, but honestly…Mom, honestly, I don't think he'll abuse them. Not now."

Cameron cleared his throat and looked away, almost embarrassed. "And if nothing else…I've been trying to convince him to set up regular appointments with Mal."

Her lips parted in surprise and a flicker of hope shone in Elizabeth's eyes. "With Mal? Psychiatric counseling? For his issues about his-"

"For anything he might want to talk about," he cut in quietly. "Mal's one of our oldest friends, and Jake trusts him. He'd be the perfect psychiatrist, especially for someone in Jake's unique position. Someone who's in the public eye and worried about the wrong information being leaked to various media outlets."

Cameron cleared his throat again. "Mal would really be able to help him, I think. But…Jake doesn't seem willing."

"I could talk to him," Elizabeth burst out. "That's what I'll do, I'll talk to him and maybe-"

"Mom." He reached out and gently closed his hand over hers. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

Her shoulders slumped and Cameron slowly withdrew his hand. "For the record, I'm trying not to push him too hard, either. Mal's discussed this with him and several times, Jake got pretty agitated, which isn't good for someone in his state. I try to drop crumbs in the conversation, make him see how it would be beneficial, but in the end, even if he does go to Mal for help…the sessions won't help him until _he _truly believes that they will, until he believes that he needs to be there if he's going to make a positive change in his life. After…everything."

He turned away from them in order to put the files away, and Jason scrubbed a hand over his face. "…I sent my own kid to intensive therapy."

Elizabeth rubbed his arm. "Jason…"

"I did," he said quietly, covering his mouth with his hand. "Jake…he needs help. He needs help, and it's because of me. God. Now that the truth is out – really out – he's going to hate me. He's probably hated me for a long time."

Elizabeth gasped when his eyes filled with tears she knew wouldn't fall and moved instantly to reassure him. "Jason, don't say that. I know Jake. He couldn't hate you."

Jason looked up at Cameron, who had the bad luck of turning at that point, and Elizabeth followed his gaze. The young doctor swallowed awkwardly and looked away, but the message in his eyes was clear.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth, and her grip on Jason's arm tightened. "I know my son. My son, the boy I raised, doesn't have it in him to hate his father."


	43. No Sense In Hiding

**Note – **I changed my feedback thread at SE to read "Mean Discussion Thread," so if you'd like to post your opinions there and reply to the opinions of others and discuss the story as a whole rather than by chapter to chapter as in normal feedback threads, you are MORE than welcome to. Ideally, it would work best if more people read and replied there so that there could be some sort of discussion initiated, but again, it's totally up to you guys and whatever you want to do.

**-Mean-**

**-42-**

_And you should know_

_That the lies won't hide your flaws._

_No sense in hiding all of yours._

_You gave up on your dreams along the way,_

_Yeah._

-- "Fake It," Seether

**.: General Hospital :.**

Jason Morgan never had any trouble listing all the ways that Elizabeth Webber, as a lover, as a friend, as a woman, was different from all the other women that had ever been in his life, but found that he now had a new item for that long, long list.

Elizabeth gave him strength in ways that none of the other women had been able to. She trusted him to protect her and support her and keep her safe, yes, but when the time came, she was the one that could hold him and kiss him and talk to him, and make him stronger in the end.

He hadn't realized just how badly he needed her then, when he was ready to explode after hearing all about the tests, tests, tests, but when Elizabeth just held him against her and told him that they would all find a way to get through this, he closed his eyes and let himself believe her.

And he actually did.

It didn't matter to him one bit what the others thought. He and Elizabeth made their choices and he was _not_ going to back down a single inch now that the time was upon him to defend those choices and their legitimacy. Elizabeth was always on his side, he knew that, and he knew that Sonny and Carly might disagree with him privately on certain issues but in public, they would both back him up with their last breaths. Robin and Patrick, it didn't really matter what they thought, and Johnny and Nadine had been kind enough not to voice their thoughts on the subject at all, which Jason appreciated. Sensible people like the Zaccharas were hard to come by these days, especially in this town.

As for the children, though their words hurt, Jason reminded himself that this was how they were supposed to act, supposed to think, supposed to be.

These were the children that all grew up just down the street from Jake. They had known him since he was five and grew up with him. Jason knew firsthand what a tight-knit group that was, how close all the children were. He knew that it would be no exaggeration to say that some of them would be willing to die for some of the others; Morgan, as one example, had already proved that by being willing to go to jail for a crime that Jake committed.

The children would, of course, grow up seeing this from Jake's perspective. They kept the secret along with him. As Jake grew under the shadow of that secret, so did they. They didn't get to see anyone else's side of it, only Jake's, and only an idiot would expect those children to somehow side with him over their best friend of some twenty years.

From their way of thinking, they were right. They were absolutely right in what they said to him. Cameron, first of all, lived his whole life seeing his little brother's anguish over not having his real father around. Michael and Morgan, too, carried the guilt that Jason chose to spend time with them when he had intentionally walked away from Jake. The girls were of course sympathetic to his son and not all that likely to cut Jason any slack any time soon.

Jason understood all of that…but no longer cared for any of it. The kids could go on thinking what they wanted. As much as he loved some of them, they didn't matter anymore in this. As he and Elizabeth agreed, they'd both let too many people into this secret. Jake had let an even larger number into it. And now was the time to fix that.

Because the only people that mattered in this ordeal were him, his son, and Elizabeth. And Cameron, too, but not as directly.

As far as Jason was concerned, the others could think what they wanted and it would no longer bother him. Not after what Elizabeth had said. They would find a way to get through him: him, his son, and Elizabeth. They were the only ones that mattered anymore, and Jason wasn't just going to let this matter get away from him unresolved. He'd spent too long being passive about these decisions.

No more.

* * *

He was walking down the hall and had just turned the corner when Cameron and Michael accosted him. They flanked him instantly and fell in step.

"Walk with us a minute."

Jason looked from Michael to Cameron and back again. "What is this? Is something wrong with Jake?"

"Yes and no," Cameron replied slowly, tapping his fingers on his chart as they headed toward the distant hub.

"You haven't had a chance to talk to him yet, have you?" Michael asked.

Jason shook his head.

"Have you heard that he's being released soon?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Elizabeth said Thursday."

Cameron shook his head. "Wrong."

"What?"

Michael nudged him gently with his elbow. "Jake told everyone Thursday, but he plans to sign out a little sooner."

Jason frowned. "Why?"

Cameron ignored the question. "You know how every day around three you leave here to shower, change, and pick up some food for Mom?"

He nodded. "Yeah…"

"Don't leave tomorrow," Michael murmured, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Wednesday, that is."

"Jake's planning to leave Wednesday, figuring that you and the others think he'll wait until Thursday." Cameron didn't meet his eye as they approached the hub. "If you step out tomorrow around three like you usually do-"

"You'll miss your only chance to see him while he's still in the hospital," Michael finished.

With that, his nephew turned and headed toward his mother and stepfather in the little waiting area while Cameron stepped into the nurse's station, leaving Jason standing by himself in the hall.

* * *

Jake stood at the foot of his bed, buttoning the sleeves of his dress shirt. He was wearing a pair of black trousers with a pale, pale blue shirt that Amalia said made his eyes look absolutely electric. He had already brushed his hair, opting to wear it parted down the middle instead of back the way he normally did if he was going for a more formal look.

Morgan had brought the clothes over for him, knowing about his premature escape plan. All of his friends knew about it. His mother didn't know, but that didn't matter because she hardly left the hospital and was actually right outside at the moment. The only thing that mattered was that Jason didn't know.

He smoothed his shirt, making sure it was properly tucked in, and glanced at his shoes again to make sure they were shiny. It wouldn't do for him to leave the hospital dressed in his jeans and t-shirt. Not with the press crawling around, waiting for the first photos of him. It was bad enough that he had to be admitted to the hospital in the first place, but he had to come out looking immaculate and strong. Like he was back, better than ever.

It was a stupid point, but men in his line of work didn't look favorably on hospital visits. Being sick was seen as a sign of weakness, and no one could afford that. Whenever his associates had to be admitted into the hospitals, great care was taken that they were admitted under a false name. When he had collapsed, Morgan and Cameron had understandably been too worried about him to do that, not that it would have helped. Half this town knew him on a first-name basis, anyway.

That was why it was so important that he leave General Hospital looking perfect, not a hair out of place. Absolutely invincible. It was the only way he _could_ leave.

To the eyes of the country, he was a different man now. He was no longer Jacob Webber, relatively small-time but quickly rising businessman. He was Jake Morgan, the son of the most notorious man on the East Coast, the heir to the Quartermaine and Webber legacy. The minute he stepped out of the hospital and into the public eye once more was the minute that he stepped into his new role as the true son of Jason Morgan and all that entailed.

He would have to be better than ever. Bigger, stronger, smarter, bolder. There was even less room for mistakes now, which was fine because he didn't plan to make very many. The years he spent as Morgan's shadow, the one that whispered to him from behind a curtain, prepared him for the time he'd spend as Morgan's partner, calling the shots a little more openly. And that time had prepared him for now, when he would step into the name that every newspaper and media outlet across the country was ascribing to him.

Jake Webber, son of Jason Morgan.

Businessman, hitman, salesman.

A man finally, plain and simple.

One of Anna's slogans from the year that Morgan ran for president of his sixth grade class came back to him, and a fleeting smile played on Jake's lips.

The Morgan man.


	44. Let Me Get This Straight

**Mean 43**

_So let me get this straight_

_You say now you've loved me all along._

_What made you hesitate_

_To tell me with words what you really feel?_

_I can see it in your eyes,_

_You mean all of what you say._

_I remember so long ago,_

_I felt the same way._

-- "Day Late Friend," Anberlin

**.: Jake's room, General Hospital :.**

Jake was standing at the foot of his bed, buttoning the cuffs on his sleeve. Jason saw him glance at his shoes, first the right and then the left, and go back to buttoning the other sleeve. A hint of a smile played on the boy's lips, and Jason figured now was as good a time as any.

"Hey."

Jake turned so abruptly that he nearly tripped over his feet, and his eyes widened as he stumbled back. He gaped at Jason, turning at least two shades paler, and Jason realized that Cameron's words from before were true. His son was just as scared as he was.

And just like that, it was gone. Jake's eyes hardened and he straightened, once again tugging on his sleeve even though the cuff was buttoned. When he spoke, his voice was even and calm, but Jason knew better. It was the exact defense mechanism he used, too.

"What are you doing here?"

He pushed himself away from the door and took two steps into the room, leaving the door open behind him. "Stopped by on the off-chance that I'd get a chance to see you."

There was no sense in implicating Cameron and Michael in this, not when they took pity on him and told him the truth.

He could see Jake swallow roughly, but it was the only sign of emotion he got as his son went back to dressing.

"Here I am."

Jason claimed another step. "Here you are."

God.

For the first time in his life, except the moment that he held Jake right after he was born, Jason was standing in the same room with his son and there was absolutely nothing else between them. Jason knew he was Jake's father, Jake knew that he was his father, and they both knew that the secret no longer existed.

He had to be very careful about what he said right now. This was a pivotal moment for the two of them, and Jason couldn't afford to bungle it up. He and his son had lost twenty-seven years of their lives together, and this conversation would likely determine whether or not they'd lose any more time.

Unfortunately for Jason, Jake didn't think the situation was nearly as cut and dried and as such wasn't preoccupied with the significance of the moment. If anything, he regretted that his father knew and that the truth was out because it was just one more thing for him to have to juggle around in an already busy life.

He didn't look at Jason and went back to buttoning the top three buttons of his shirt, barely registering anything when his father spoke again.

"You've known everything since you were six."

Jake tilted his chin up. "Yup."

Jason claimed another small step. "You lived your whole life knowing-"

"Look." That was where he stopped him. Jake turned and arched a brow at Jason, otherwise expressionless. "You can stop the angst right there. Yes, I've known since I was a kid that you were my biological father. Yes, I let everyone think I still thought of myself as Lucky Spencer's. And no, this doesn't change anything."

Jason's lips parted in surprise and he could only stare at his son. "What – What do you mean this doesn't change anything? This changes every-"

"This changes nothing," Jake ground out, his eyes flashing as he tugged on his cuff once again for good measure. "Absolutely nothing. The way I see it, we just go on living our lives as we ever did. As we've been doing these past twenty-seven years."

His blood was pounding in his ears and Jason couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But you're my _son_."

"Not legally," he replied tightly, lifting his chin a notch. "Not emotionally. We have no connection, you and I. Not by law and not by the heart."

Jason squared his jaw. His son was throwing a tantrum, and there was no way he was going to just admit defeat and walk away. "I'm not letting you-"

"You're not in a position to _let_ me do anything," Jake snorted. "You never were. _You _walked way from me, Jason. You did it. It's all on you. And this? The fact that you know? That my mother knows? That the whole town, the whole country, the whole world knows? It changes_ nothing._ You are not my father, and I won't ever think of you as one."

He reeled back, a flicker of pain running through his eyes, but Jason still wasn't about to give in. "I don't care if you don't want to admit it, but a lot's changed. _Everything_ has changed. Can't you at least hear me out?"

A sardonic smile kicked up the corner of Jake's mouth, and if he wasn't his son, Jason would have actually been nervous. It was the kind of sickly smile that was meant to taunt and intimidate, degrade and undermine. And Jake had mastered that look.

"Fine, Jason, you want to talk?" Something cold and hard glittered in his eyes, the eyes that both Morgan men inherited from Lila. "Talk."

Jason licked his lips. He'd been on trial many times before, but always had someone representing him, someone arguing on his behalf and just trusting him to stand there and look noble and upright. This time, he was his own defense, and Jake was the judge, jury, and executioner.

"I didn't find out that you were mine until your mother was about five months along," he started softly. "There was – there was a hostage situation at the MetroCourt, the one that cost my father his life."

Jake looked away, his gaze falling on his suit jacket slung over the back of the arm chair.

"Your mother was having labor pains, and we all thought she was going to deliver you on the spot. You wouldn't have made it if that had happened." Jason cleared his throat. "Thankfully, she stayed calm and kept you safe. When the hotel blew, I grabbed her and ducked into an elevator shaft. It was the most secure part of the structure, and I knew we'd be safe until the rescue crews found us. That – That was when she told me that you were mine."

His son didn't say anything. Jason forged on.

"We decided that it would be safer if no one knew that you were mine, if Lucky raised you."

"Safer," Jake snorted. He picked up his tie from the bed and threw it round his neck, adjusting the ends. "Yeah, because a high-ranking cop doesn't have any enemies at all, not like a mobster does. Everyone loves our men in fucking blue…"

Jason let out a short breath through his nose. "Lucky was a safer choice than me," he repeated gently. "Your mother and I honestly believed that he would be a great father to you and Cam."

The corner of his mouth quirked up as Jake wound his tie into a clumsy knot. "Yeah, proves that you're both such excellent judges of character."

He pursed his lips into a thin line but continued anyway. "The danger in my life…Jake, I saw what happened to Michael because of it. Someone tried to kill Sonny and took him out instead just because he was standing too close to him. Children _die_ in our world. Elizabeth and I could never put you in a place like that. You deserved to grow up safe and happy, not stuck in a bullet-proof penthouse with armed guards, living with the fear that someone would kidnap you or worse just because you were my son. This kind of life doesn't accommodate children, so I…I gave you up because I had no other choice."

Jake yanked the tie out of his collar, having failed three times to get it into a knot. Fucking thing, he'd go without. He flung it on the bed and faced Jason, his eyes hard and blazing. Outside, Cameron and Spencer were standing together and had noticed father and son, and now shared apprehensive looks.

"Children die in your world," he repeated quietly. "Your life is dangerous. And so on and on. It's a nice try, I'll give you that, and it would fool anyone that wasn't on the inside like I am. See, I know what that excuse really is: feeble. It's a feeble, feeble excuse."

Jason's lips parted. "If I claimed you and raised you, I would have been putting you in harm's-"

"You want to tell yourself that you walked away from me because you wanted to keep me safe?" He placed a hand on his chest, his eyes wide as he questioned his father. "Fine. You do that. But don't expect me to buy that shit. I grew up right down the street from Morgan. I spent half my life at his house. So don't you dare tell me-"

"Morgan was different," Jason burst out. "Jax and Carly had primary custody. He only saw Sonny on the weekends. He spent very little time at Harborview Towers, and we had guards placed on him his whole life. He-"

Jake's expression didn't change. "Do you know who I grew up across the street from? John, Nadine, and Amalia Zacchara. You wanna tell me they're different, too?"

Jason stayed silent, and Jake took one step closer to him. "Their story's the same as yours. John knocked his wife up without planning to and she sure as hell didn't plan on having kids with a mobster. But they got married and they raised Amalia, and guess what? She's still alive. She was safe and happy her whole life. How the _hell _did they make it work, Jason, if you're telling me that our life isn't conducive to children?"

He snarled and backed away, shaking his head. "Forget it. I don't care. There's nothing you could possibly say to that, anyway."

"Jake-"

His back was toward him as he grabbed his wallet and personal effects from the nightstand. They had been handed over to his mother when he was admitted: his phone, his wallet, his keys, and his gun. Jake hated thinking of Elizabeth having to hang on to his Glock, and had been relieved 

to learn that as soon as Molly found out, she took it from the nurse and set it in a drawer in Jake's room. He took the weapon and tucked it into his holster.

"It's fine. It doesn't change anything, anyway."

A muscle in Jason's jaw ticked furiously. "Do you _honestly_ think that _anyone_ could have made me walk away from you if-"

"Don't care," Jake cut him off, turning now to face him. His eyes were clear and placid, his voice even and light as he carefully tried to keep the mask of indifference firmly in place. "It doesn't change anything, Jason. It doesn't change our lives. I'm still the same man I ever was, and you're still the same coward you ever were."

He scooped up his suit jacket and slipped his arm into one sleeve, then the other, carefully concealing his holster. It broke Jason's heart to see him do that with such ease.

"You spent your whole life taking care of everyone around you," he said softly, meeting his gaze directly. "Sonny. Carly. Then Jax when she married him. Aunt Robin, my dearest Aunt Lulu, Mr. and Mrs. _Spinelli_."

He sneered the word, and Jason winced.

"You spent your whole life taking care of everyone," Jake murmured, passing his hands over his immaculate lapels, smoothing them. "Everyone but me. And I hope you enjoyed that, because it doesn't look like you have anything else left."

"I have _you_," Jason ground out, stalking toward him. "And no matter how hard you try to run away from that, it won't change. You're my son, and nothing will ever change how I feel about you."

"And that's a grave miscalculation on your part," Jake murmured. He picked up his keys and slipped them into his pocket. "Because the way I see it, it's done. It was over before it ever began. Because you didn't want me, and now I don't need you."

And with that, he stepped past Jason and left the room. Elizabeth, who had been tipped off by the grave looks on Spencer and Cameron's faces, stood a few steps away and had clearly been deliberating whether or not she should go in and join the hushed conversation that she couldn't even make up.

She looked up, her expression anxious, as Jake stepped out and Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly when he kissed her temple. Jake didn't bother glancing over his shoulder but knew exactly where his mother was looking when she opened her eyes again.

"I'll see you at home, Mom," he smiled, succeeding in keeping his voice light and unaffected. He looked over at Morgan and Cameron, both of whom tried to relax when they saw his carefully maintained look of indifference toward the awkward situation, and walked toward them.

Cameron fell in step with him as they went to take care of the last of the paperwork, and gently tousled his little brother's hair before letting his arm swing back to his side.

* * *

"For what it's worth…" Kristina Davis, who was waiting for Cameron and Jake to finish the paperwork, sidled up next to Elizabeth Webber as the nurse stood at the hub. Jason Morgan stood a few steps away, his eyes downcast, his expression unreadable. "I always tried to talk to Jake and get him to understand why you made the choices for him that you did."

Elizabeth, who had spent most of the past two weeks holed up either with Jason, Robin, or alone in one of the hospital rooms, knew that Cameron and some of the other kids knew the whole story from the beginning, but wasn't clear on exactly who numbered among that group.

Spinelli, who made it a point not to spend more time with the younger ones than he had to after learning of Jake's deceit, came up to the hub and stood next to his old mentor, listening quietly to Kristina.

"I could understand where he was coming from," she shrugged, tucking a lock of her impossibly dark hair behind her ear. "I dealt with something similar so, to my way of thinking, I was the only one that stood a chance of getting through to him. But he was stubborn. Very stubborn. And of course, more than half the time he made me even more miserable about my situation with my own father, so…"

Elizabeth wasn't interested in hearing about Sonny and watched Kristina soberly. "…When did you find out? When did Jake tell you?"

"He didn't actually want to tell me," the young woman replied, thinking back on that day. "Mike was the one that told me and Molly. He figured that we both knew a little about what Jake was going through because my father chose to spend all of his time with Mike and Morgan instead of me, that sort of thing."

Spinelli's expression was troubled. "Molly knew? From the start?"

"From the start," Kristina confirmed. "The first time we visited that tree house out back at 234, we learned about the whole thing. Well, the whole thing from what Jake and Morgan and Spencer could find out."

Jason was frowning, and his voice when he spoke was rusty. "What do you mean, find out?"

"Everyone did a little digging," she shrugged. "Morgan found out that you two were involved and that you really were Jake's father, no question about it. Cameron found out that you and the Commish always fought because of your relationship to Jason since you were teenagers."

Elizabeth blushed at that but the young attorney didn't notice.

"Molly found out the same thing about Ric, how he loved you and hated that you were connected to Jason, even as friends." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Let's see…Spencer found out from his father that you and Jason were lovers when you were a teenager, that it started all the way back then."

Elizabeth let out a squawk as Spinelli stared at her. "But that's not true! Nikolas said that? Why on earth would he-"

"Christmas party," Jason mumbled under his breath.

"Oh." Elizabeth shook her head. "Of course, I told him – I just made that up. I would have told him anything to get him to leave me alone then. That wasn't true."

Kristina was frowning. "It wasn't? Spencer said-"

"Spencer got it from Nikolas, and I lied to Nikolas," she cut in plainly. "Jason and I were never together until…until Jake."

"Wow." She let out a little whistle. "Okay, we were totally off the mark on that one."

"Not that it even matters anymore," Spinelli cut in bitterly.

"Um…okay, let me think, Cecily was the one who found out that you told Jason the truth when the MetroCourt hotel blew up," Kristina added, ticking her friends off on her fingers. "Mal found out that you guys were engaged at one point. Anna found out from her dad that you did a lot of illegal stuff to keep Jason safe and out of jail."

Jason closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face. Damn kids.

"Who am I missing? Oh, Amalia!" She shook her head. "That's right. I can't believe I almost left her out."

"Wait a second." Jason's heart raced suddenly, and three pairs of eyes bore into Kristina's. "Did you say Amalia? Zacchara?"

Spinelli was gravely concerned. "The daughter of Johnny Zacchara knew?"

Kristina shifted uneasily, but figured that the truth was out already, so there was no point in being selective. "Jake told Amalia himself. It turned out, though, that he didn't have to. She already knew."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. A good moment passed before she could speak and when she finally did, her eyes glistened with futile tears. "Amalia? She – she knew? But that would mean-"

"She learned it from her parents," Kristina confirmed quietly as Spinelli ran a hand through his hair, completely bewildered at this turn of events. "Her mother and father found out from her Aunt Claudia. The one who left Port Charles when Lia was just a baby, I think. She comes back from time to time, I'm sure you've seen her-"

"We know her," Jason interrupted grimly. "We know Claudia Zacchara. Fucking damn it…"

Spinelli let out a cluck of disbelief. "Everyone knew. Every single one."

Elizabeth was still having a hard time believing it. "N-Not everyone-"

The young man held up his hand, ticking the people off on his fingers. "You, Stone Cold, Lucky, me, Maxie, Lulu, Emily, rest her soul, Carly, Sonny, Diane, Robin, Patrick, Johnny, Nadine, Sam, Claudia Zacchara-"

"Jake, Cameron," Kristina picked up, following his example and ticking the people off one by one. "Morgan, Michael, Cecily, Mal, Anna, Spencer, Laur, me, Molly, Amalia, Chase, and Penn."

"Thirty people between the two of us," Spinelli murmured, as if in a daze. "Thirty people. For more than twenty years…"

"Can we keep a secret, or what?" Kristina asked dryly, looking over when she spotted her sister waving to her. Cameron and Jake were done with the paperwork and everyone was ready to leave the hospital. They had already decided on how they would do that: Jake would be flanked by Morgan and Kristina, with Michael and Amalia and Cameron right behind them and Chase and Penn, the two guards, two steps ahead of the group. The rest would follow along at the very end.

"Oh, excuse me." She picked up her purse and flashed them a small smile. The media circus outside was waiting, and they couldn't put this off forever. All that mattered now was leaving the hospital with Jake looking stronger and more intimidating than ever, and as part of his professional network she needed to be right at his side, his bulldog of an attorney. "Time to go."


	45. All That You've Got

**Note – **For fun, why do you think I chose Elizabeth's address to be 234 Cherry Blossom Lane? I'm just curious.

**Mean 44**

_You live for the fight_

_When that's all that you've got._

-- "Living On A Prayer," Bon Jovi

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

"He's where?"

Elizabeth managed a lop-sided smile and handed Jason his coffee. It was late afternoon and he'd dropped by to see her at the house. She knew he was feeling the strange way she was, that he just needed to be with her. They'd spent the past two weeks constantly at each others' sides at the hospital and now that everyone was back home, she missed that. Needed that. And she knew he did, too.

"He's at the community center, playing basketball with Michael and Morgan."

"The one that they-"

She nodded. "Yeah. The one they built. Apparently they were told that they're always welcome there, so the boys sometimes show up for basketball tournaments with the kids that play there. It's good. It's…good."

Jason took a small sip of his coffee, smiling when he saw that she still remembered just how he liked it. "Should he be out doing that? So soon after…?"

Elizabeth rolled her shoulders. "Well, they kept him in the hospital until he was well on his feet. And he's been getting stronger and stronger every day, so I don't think there's anything wrong with it as long as those boys take it easy on him."

"Yeah."

She nodded slowly, looking away. "Yeah…"

They stood in silence for a long moment before Jason hesitantly cleared his throat. "And Cameron…?"

"He's good," Elizabeth replied automatically. "Very busy with work. Doctor Ford cut him some slack with Jake but now he's back to handling all of his departmental duties. Yeah, yeah."

Jason sipped his coffee and nodded. "He enjoys it, though."

"Oh, he does," she agreed readily. "He tries to say that it's never lupus at least once a day. And he gets to spend time with Molly at work. Although these days…"

His brows furrowed. "These days?"

"Well, he mentioned off-handedly once that Molly's been really busy," Elizabeth murmured, obviously troubled. "That they had dinner plans but he had to cancel, which he said was just as well because as it turned out, so did she."

Jason chose his words carefully. "…Does that bother you?"

"Kind of," she admitted. "I try not to think about it, but, come on. Molly works for Jake and Morgan. If she's really busy…then he's up to something. Something involving the business, something not good. Because if Molly's really busy, then you just know that Jake is doing ten times as much work. He's always felt that if he's ordering people around, he should be setting the example by doing even more than he's asking them to do. And I can't ask him anything about it, I can't ever ask…"

She dragged a hand through her hair and walked around the coffee table. "It's you, all over again."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she winced. "Sorry. I – I'm, I'm sorry."

Elizabeth sighed and sank down onto the couch. "That wasn't fair of me, sorry. I just said it without thinking. It's in the past, it doesn't matter anymore. Sorry."

Jason crossed the room carefully and slowly lowered himself down onto the couch so that they were sitting next to each other, her leg brushing against his. "You don't – you don't have to apologize. You get to feel the way you want to feel. And you didn't say anything…untrue."

She wasn't looking at him. "Still. It's not fair to you, not anymore. Things like that…they just don't matter anymore."

"Maybe not." Hesitantly, he reached out and took her hand, linking her fingers carefully with his, studying the difference in the size, shape and color of their hands. She let him, even caressed his knuckles with a light sweeping motion of her thumb. "But if you and me – if we're ever going to be the way we used to, we can't tiptoe around each other."

Elizabeth's gaze flew to him and her lips parted in surprise while their fingers remained linked. Jason met her gaze evenly, honestly. He meant what he said. Now that everything was out in the open, there was no point to staying away. He spent almost all of his life wanting her, and there was nothing standing in the way of that anymore. And if Elizabeth wanted him, too, Jason knew that this time, they wouldn't fail.

He could feel her warm breath on his chin, and Jason couldn't tear himself away. Elizabeth's eyes were glistening, her expression soft, and her thumb still moved in that maddening caress over the back of his hand. Jason leaned just a little closer, felt her sharp intake of breath before she did the same, and-

A key jiggled in the lock and the front door flew open, and Jason and Elizabeth both shot up from their seats when they heard their son's warm laughter.

"I'm staying out of that one," he grinned, presumably talking to Morgan. "Whatever. Just meet me and Spence at the Grille tonight, don't forget."

He turned, still smiling, and shut the door while wiping the sweat off his face with the hem of his t-shirt. Behind her, Elizabeth could feel Jason tense as they both waited for Jake to say something. The young man ran a hand through his damp hair and mopped the sweat off his neck, and when he looked up his eyes were placid and his expression gave nothing away.

"Hey." Jake's blue eyes twinkled faintly as he looked at his mother. He jerked his thumb toward the kitchen without breaking eye contact. "I'm going to go get some water. When I come out, he needs to not be here."

He headed into the kitchen as he said, leaving Elizabeth stunned.

Jason sighed and set the coffee mug down on the table, flashing her a regretful look. He wanted to kiss her, but settled on pressing his lips to her forehead.

"I'll see you later."

Elizabeth grabbed his arm almost urgently. "Jason. Jason, you don't have to leave. Stay."

He shook his head and glanced at the door leading into the kitchen. "No. I should go."

"He's just a boy," she hissed quietly. "He's angry and he's hurt and he refuses to listen – you don't have to leave just because he said so."

"Elizabeth, I'm not going to antagonize him," Jason told her firmly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm not going to pressure him. It'll just push him farther away. Trust me, I know."

She pursed her lips together when she realized that he was speaking from his experiences with the Quartermaine, and it broke her heart that her little boy was the same angry, confused, hurt young man that Jason Morgan had been once when he woke up and found the world strange and new around him.

"I'll just go."

This time when he pulled away, Elizabeth reached out with one hand and fisted his shirt, using the weak hold to tug him to her. Jason didn't resist and she pressed a soft kiss to his lips as they heard the water running in the next room.

He tucked her hair behind her ear and they shared a long look before Jason finally withdrew and slowly walked over to the door. He heaved a heavy sigh, remembering all the times he walked out of this house, each time promising himself that it was for good. He pulled the door open and stepped out into the sunshine, closing it softly behind him.

Elizabeth folded her arms across her middle and waited until she heard glasses clink in the sink and Jake walked out, still just as sweaty as he was when he walked in. He flashed her a smile and moved past the couch, intending to head upstairs and wash for dinner.

Even though he had a penthouse of his own right across the hall from Morgan, Jake still lived with her. At least two or three nights a week, he would sleep upstairs in his old room, and they usually had dinner together in the evenings if he didn't have any meetings or any plans with associates.

"Be down as soon as I shower, Mom."

"Jake, wait." She licked her lips as he turned and looked at her. "We need to talk."

If he had a nickel for every single time she said that to him during his life, Jake wouldn't have needed his father's business to become so wealthy. "Sure, what is it?"

"About Jason." Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, trying to be stern. Scolding her adult children didn't work so well; after a certain age, they just couldn't take her as seriously because they were grown men interacting with the world in their own ways. So she tried to be stern and state her point of view plainly, hoping that some of it would stick.

"I didn't like how you kicked him out of here."

He looked away, and she knew he only did that because he still couldn't bring himself to roll his eyes at her.

"Jason was here to see me," she said quietly, refusing to hide the fact. "You didn't have to speak to him like that. I know you have all these – all these ideas in your head about what he's like, about how he's never been there for me, but that's just not true. When you were in the hospital, Jason hardly ever left my side. He helped me stay strong through it, he-"

"Mom." Jake was standing in front of her now – towering over her, really – and took her hands in his. "I don't want to talk about Jason. I really don't. I have nothing to say about him. And for the record?"

He tilted his head to the side and flashed her a small, sincere smile. "You're the strongest person I've ever known. You are."

Her lips parted. "Jake-"

"Because of how you picked up and raised me and Cameron even after he left you, after Pop left us. You did it all on your own, you never asked for money or for help from anyone. And you don't give yourself nearly enough credit for that. You don't need other people to make you strong, Mom. You're strong enough on your own, and you always have been."

Jake leaned down and kissed her cheek, then pulled away. "I'm going to shower and be right down."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, to stop him, but nothing came out. Instead she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, watching her son trot up the stairs.

* * *

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

"She named you after this place, you know."

Jake managed a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Lucky passed him a beer, and he nodded. "Yeah, I know."

He took a sip and slid a sidelong glance at the Commissioner. When he walked into the bar, he'd seen him sitting at the counter and when Lucky invited him to have a beer with him, Jake didn't see any reason to refuse him outright.

"Did _you_ know?"

Lucky chuckled and shook his head. "Nope."

"What did she say?"

He tilted his head back, remembering the day Jake was born. "It was me, Nikolas, your mother, and your Aunt Emily in the hospital room. Your mother had you in her arms. When she was pregnant, we agreed that if you turned out to be a girl, I'd get to name you – you'd have been Laura Jean Spencer – and if you were a boy, your mom would get to name you."

Lucky sighed and took another sip of his beer. "She said she was naming you Jacob because it was a good, strong name, one that she'd always liked. Played it as a coincidence that the short form of it was Jake and that she loved it this bar. You got your middle name from her Uncle Martin, who she said she loved very much."

Jake frowned. "I didn't know she had an Uncle Martin."

He arched a brow at him. "She doesn't."

The young man sucked on his teeth, knowing it would be very cruel of him to smile. "Ah."

Lucky rolled his eyes. "She just wanted you to have the initials 'JM.' After your _real_ father."

Jake didn't rise to the bait. "Hm."

"You know…" The Commissioner tapped his fingernails on the counter and turned to look at him. "I never would have guessed, ever, that you knew anything. I doubt any of us would have. The thought that you knew our secret was just so…awful and incomprehensible that we just blocked it. Rejected it. I…Jake, I had no idea that you had to deal with issues of abandonment like that. If I did…I would have made an even bigger attempt to compensate for that. Make up for what Jason couldn't do."

Jake had been prepared to guzzle down a quick beer with his 'father' and leave it all at that, but that final remark rubbed him the wrong way. He sucked his teeth, feeling his anger bubble up, his body tense, and was so focused on the implications of that statement that he didn't realize that Jason had entered the bar and was now within earshot.

"Don't worry about it," he answered lightly, feigning a dismissive, irreverent air. "It's no big deal. You weren't around for me that much at all, really, and I did fine on my own. I'm certainly not crying about how you were just as MIA as Jason. It's all done, in the past."

Lucky opened his mouth, his retort ready, but was interrupted by his sister. Lulu Spencer, still single these many years later, had spotted them at the bar and headed over, and it was clear that she needed something. This time, however, she wasn't here to pester her brother: she was here for her nephew.

"Hey." She tucked her long, blonde hair behind her ear and came to a stop right in front of Jake, who turned around on his stool and shot her a curious look. "I need to talk to you. I have a business proposition."

Jake set down his bottle and shot her a smooth smile, and his voice when he spoke was absolutely silky. "I'm all ears, Auntie Lu."

She hated it when he called her 'auntie,' so he and Morgan just made a habit of it when they were children. Even as boys, it bothered them to no end that Lulu would stomp into their mothers' homes only to demand things of them, and never be around when either Carly or Elizabeth might have appreciated her help.

Lulu didn't waste any time. "I want you to invest in the Haunted Star."

Jake stared at her, seeing Jason and Max in a corner booth out of the corner of his eye, and then burst out laughing. "Yeah, I'm not going to be doing that."

Lulu's jaw dropped. "You haven't even heard my proposal!"

"Don't want to. Won't do it."

"We're your _family_," she hissed, stomping her foot. "I don't care if you don't think so, we gave you our name and you've been seen a Spencer all your life."

"I'm a _Webber_," Jake ground out loudly. "And the Spencers are a piece of trash family that leeches off the people of Port Charles. You're the first in line when there's money to be made and the last in line when help is needed. You're parasites, and you, Auntie Lu, are a prime example. I will never forgive the Spencers for the way you treated my mother. I thank God that she had the sense to take back her own name and pass it on to myself and my brother. I'll never support your damn casino and you could starve on the street for all I care."

Lucky's face turned red and the vein in his forehead was beginning to throb, but Lulu beat him to it.

"You're just doing this because you're living out some twisted vendetta," she growled. "And it's misguided and petty and ridiculous and-"

"I'm doing it because I can," Jake cut her off loudly. "I'll make it very plain for you: I don't have any loyalty to the Spencers. None whatsoever. But this? This goes beyond that. This is a business decision. The Haunted Star is a terrible, terrible investment and everyone knows that, otherwise you wouldn't have to come begging me to help."

Lulu's jaw dropped. "I have never begged anyone for any-"

"There's no need to lie." He silenced her with a sharp look. "Grampa Luke might have been a tolerably good businessman when he was my age, but he's a disgrace now. He hardly ever has two quarters in his pocket to rub together. He bankrupts everything he touches by always dipping into the till. And you like to think that you have business sense, but you're no better than he is. You have very poor investment sense and barely manage to stay out of the red. The Haunted Star would not be a profitable venture for me. And I have no interest in anything that doesn't pay off for me in the end."

He got up from the stool, taller than her by a little less than a foot.

"I won't let the Spencers mooch off my family any longer," he vowed. "It started with the Cassidines – Nikolas was too blind to sibling affection to realize that it wasn't a two-way street. Then came my mother."

He turned to Lucky. "Just how much of your hospital bills did she pay when Cameron and I were babies? More than half."

Lucky snorted. "That happened a long time ago and is no one's business but mine and Elizabeth's. She made a choice when she married me-"

"A stupid one," Jake finished. "And don't worry, you've already paid her back in full plus interest."

Lucky frowned at him, confused, as he should have been. After all, he had no way of knowing that ever since Jake found out about all the money that his mother wasted on a deadbeat like him, he'd taken it upon himself (with Molly's help) to garnish a small amount of Lucky's salary every month and quietly add it to Elizabeth's bank account when she deposited her paychecks. And the best part was that there was no paper trail, no trace of any of it. Molly was _that_ good.

"Then came the Quartermaines," Jake continued, feeling his father's eyes on him. Jason and Max were listening in, but he didn't care. "You leeched off them for years and now that I'm the heir-apparent of all Quartermaine interests, I'm putting an end to it. It stops with me. For the first time your miserable lives, the Spencers will have to find their own way."

He snorted and turned on his heel. "The Webbers and Quartermaines won't be bailing you out again. My family is done with you."


	46. Words and Tricks

**Note – **Very, very interesting guesses about the 234 Cherry Blossom Lane thing. Here's my answer: I love cherry blossoms. They're red and white with that dark, dark wood – just love the contrast. They're a pretty, delicate little flower and just so harmless and sweet, even from the name. Something about 'blossom' has always implied innocence to me, which was why I figured it was the perfect street for all these kids to grow up on. And Room 234 at the Metrocourt where Liason met to do sex – I'm actually wondering if GH had the same reasoning behind that as I did here. Remember when Ric was bursting into some hotel room and the date was like 815 or 814 and that was the date of the NOP? So we know they've got a thing for numbers on the show, too. Well, my reasoning behind 234 was Elizabeth's family: 2, 3, and 4. Elizabeth, Cameron, and Jake. Missing the first number, missing Jason.

**Mean 45**

_It's a luscious mix_

_Of words and tricks_

_That let us bet_

_When you know we should fold._

-- "Caring is Creepy," The Shins

**.: Penthouse 4, Harborview Towers :.**

"No. To answer your question…no." Damien Spinelli slipped his hands into his pockets and walked around the couch, tilting his chin up a notch when he turned and faced his old mentor again. "No, I haven't been around to see him since he was released from the hospital."

Jason nodded and slowly lowered himself onto the couch. "Okay."

"Why?" Spinelli's eyes narrowed. "Have you? Have you gotten a chance to see him? I can't imagine the Not So Innocent One would let you within a twenty-mile radius of him…"

"I stopped by the house once or twice," he admitted. "To see Elizabeth, see how she was. And…hoping I'd get a chance to see him."

"From what I can understand, they're busy." Spinelli practically sneered the last word. "Him and Molly and Kristina and Morgan, even the Littlest Prince, Spencer. They're running around and they're up to something and it's no good."

"You been able to find out what?"

He shook his head regretfully, sinking down on the couch across from him. "No, damn it. That's the thing, and not from a lack of trying on my part, either. It's my own fault – I taught Molly everything she knew before she went off to college where she picked up the rest. It's the cat teaching the lion how to climb a tree."

Jason wasn't following. "What?"

"An old parable," Spinelli sighed impatiently. "You know, the lion goes to the cat to learn from it. The cat teaches it everything about being a cat. The lion wants to eliminate competition and tries to kill the cat, but the cat just climbs a tree, which the lion can't do. When the lion asks why the cat didn't teach it to climb the damn tree, the cat says that it couldn't teach the lion everything it knew because then it would have just left itself vulnerable to attack and elimination. Although, admittedly, Molly's not as vindictive as that. Your son might be, though."

He sighed heavily. "…He's just confused. It's a lot for him to handle, all this at once, so soon after his…you know. I'm waiting for the right time."

"The right time to do what?"

"To tell him to grow the hell up and listen to all sides of the story," Jason stated plainly. "If he needs to act up and lash out now that the whole thing's out, let him. When he gets tired of that, he'll have no choice but to listen."

"Well, you certainly are persuasive when you need people to listen to you," his old friend smirked. "And if anyone would know how to handle a little shit like that, it'd be you."

"Spinelli…"

He rolled his eyes at Jason's warning glare. "Oh, come on. You're still thinking it."

"He's my son."

"Yes, I know he is," Spinelli snapped. As a younger man, he never would have dreamed of speaking this way to Jason, the formidable mob enforcer that for whatever reason took a liking to him and took care of him. But as the years passed, he grew into his own skin, always providing his services to Jason to the point where he knew Jason considered him a true friend, a true partner. Those pretenses faded away after that, and he became one of very few people that Jason was open and frank with, and Spinelli returned that in kind.

"But he's still a little shit. He thinks he knows everything, thinks he's damn invincible, just because it hasn't all blown up in his face yet."

Jason's eyes flashed. "I don't _want_ anything to blow up in his face."

"Of course you don't," Spinelli agreed quietly. "I didn't mean to imply anything to that effect. It would be awful if he got hurt as a result of the business. But at the same time, he can't go on thinking he's invincible and carrying on this way. Even now, I think he's gearing up to do something dramatic."

Jason winced. "You're getting that feeling too, huh?"

He nodded sagely. "I can't tell you why, exactly, but it's like I feel it in the air. There are changes being made, Stone Cold. Changes. And after practically living with you for the past twenty years…"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You always worked so hard to keep everything status quo. You and Johnny Zacchara both. You never staged any coups, you never made all-out bids for occupied territories, you never tried to oust any of your associates. You worked very hard to just keep to your own turf and keep running your business the way you needed to without getting into it with anyone else. Somehow, I don't think Jake has enough sense to do that."

"I've seen this before," Jason admitted. "Men, when they get into the business…young men. They feel like they have something to prove."

"Even more so with the Not So Innocent One," Spinelli grumbled.

"They want to branch out, they want to take control, they want to mow down everything in their path." Jason sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I've seen it over and over again."

"What usually happens to them?"

"Either they get mowed down," he said slowly, "or they grow up and grow out of it. If Jake's trying to do something, I hope he ends up the second way. I hope he sees that sometimes, it's just not worth it."

"The biggest clue, personally, is that he's got Molly and Kristina so busy," Spinelli sighed. "That can't be good. And you saw those pictures that were leaked last week."

"The ones of him and Cameron?" Jason nodded. "Yeah, that came as a pretty big surprise to everyone. I couldn't turn on the television without seeing someone reporting on it. People loved that."

The week before, someone had hacked into Cameron's desktop on his computer at work and found a couple digital photos that he had left there instead of organizing in one of his online albums. A couple were scanned photographs from when he and Jake were younger and horsing around in the backyard. Jake was wearing a red Superman cape. The others were fairly recent, taken about a year or two ago, and included their mother. Those pictures had been released to various media outlets and within three hours, were up on most hit gossip blogs.

"They did," Spinelli affirmed. "Media ate it up. Somehow, though, I don't think it was an accident."

Jason blinked at him. "You don't, either?"

"What do you mean, either?"

"When those came out," he said, moving to the edge of his seat, "I thought that the timing was a little off."

"A little too good, right?" Spinelli nodded, understanding him perfectly. "He was just out of the hospital, his paternity was out, he wasn't granting any interviews, everyone wanted to see what he'd do next."

Jason was in perfect agreement. "And I always wondered…I'd believe it if someone said that Jake was responsible for leaking those. Or Cameron. They probably did it through Molly, if they did it at all, so that it couldn't be traced to them."

"It would have been a smart move, actually." Spinelli threw his arm over the armrest and sat back on the couch. "He's back on the scene, he's reinventing himself, he's probably about to do something dangerous with far-reaching effects: why _not_ leak a bunch of private photos to at least win public support? Or if nothing else, distract people? Would have been a shrewd move. And I don't think Jake would be above using his old mementos that way. If anything, I can see his brother agreeing. I'd doubt that Elizabeth knew about it, though, if it happened this way."

Jason shook his head. "He's careful to keep her out of it. He doesn't tell her anything unless he absolutely has to. Just like me."

"That was a long time ago," Spinelli told him gently. "You did it to protect her, so that she wouldn't have to testify against you or let something slip that could hurt the two of you. He's doing it…he's doing it because he can. He doesn't like to let people in on his plans, on his ideas. He likes to close himself off, keep everything a secret because it gives him more power that way."

Jason sighed, preparing a reply, then frowned when he felt his phone buzz. "Hold on. Morgan."

"_Jason, my boy," _he heard his grandfather purr on the other end of the line. _"This is Edward. Could you do me a favor, I wonder? Check the current price of ELQ shares for me."_

Jason frowned and looked over at Spinelli. "Price of ELQ shares?"

The young man picked up his phone and within seconds had the New York Stock Exchange page pulled up. "Hold on…73.19."

"Seventy-three-nineteen," Jason recited. "Why?"

Edward didn't answer the question. _"Do another favor for me, my boy. Turn on the television and turn to the local news. Goodbye."_

Jason flipped his phone off and tossed it onto the couch, snapping his fingers at Spinelli. "Remote."

He scooped it up and pointed it at the plasma. "Station?"

"News."

"Ah." The young man flipped it on and they found themselves staring at a pretty blonde reporter standing in front of a stone building. "What is this?"

"_Mark, I'm standing in front of the local headquarters for ELQ, Incorporated," _she said, and Jason and Spinelli both gaped at the screen. _"In a few minutes, Edward Quartermaine, the founder and CEO, will be holding a press conference naming the heir to the company and the family fortune. Lots of excitement today, as Mr. Quartermaine has held off on naming an heir for the past twenty years, instead subjecting the possible candidates to impossible tests of loyalty and intelligence. Many inside sources claimed that he simply didn't want to give his company away and thus held off for so long."_

"_Let me stop you right there, Mary Anne," _they heard the anchorman say. _"Edward Quartermaine is about to name his heir, something he's avoided doing for the past two decades, and just three weeks ago we learned that he has an illegitimate grandchild, Jake Webber, a New York businessman himself who is on a tremendous rise despite being plagued by rumors of mafia involvement."_

"_That is correct, Mark."_

"_Do you think," _the man continued, _"that there's any chance that he is the one being made the heir of his new grandfather's company?"_

"_It's certainly a good guess, Mark," _the reporter said as Spinelli scrubbed a hand over his face. _"Even though this has been quite the surprise and was kept under wraps, inside sources are speculating that Edward Quartermaine will give his company to his new grandson, despite the fact that they never had much of a relationship personally before the news of Jacob Webber's paternity came to light."_

"_Excellent, Mary Anne. We'll see you in a bit."_

Spinelli let out a slow, deliberate breath as the anchorman and woman continued to chat as the reporter followed the others into the building for the press conference. "Did you have any idea he was going to do this?"

"Edward didn't say anything to me," Jason replied tightly. "But this doesn't surprise me."

"Why would he do it?" Spinelli wanted to know. "You were there when Jake tried to take over ELQ the first time. Edward ripped him to shreds. You saw it. And now he's doing this? He's giving Jake everything?"

"It's a smart move," he admitted quietly. "Jake's got a good investment record. He's been running his companies with Morgan successfully. He knows how to make money, and that's what Edward wants."

"But Jake has no allegiance to the Quartermaine family," Spinelli hissed. "They're nothing to him. He's not going to run that company the way Edward wants when Edward steps down. It'll be you all over again – as soon as Edward is out of the picture, Jake will take that company in any direction he wants and just ignore his advice. The Quartermaine family means nothing to him."

Jason smiled softly as he stared at his clasped hands. "I think you're wrong."

Spinelli blinked. "Really? Why?"

He thought back to the conversation between Lucky, Lulu, and Jake at the bar his son was named after, how Jake told them that the Quartermaines and Webbers were done bailing them out, how _his family_ wouldn't allow them to leech off them anymore.

"You remember what I told you about Jake's ideas when Morgan was running for president of his class the first time?"

"Not really."

"Jake called himself one of the old bloods," Jason said, thinking back to that evening in Carly's living room. "He said that Morgan was a jock, Mal was the musician, Amalia was the popular girl, and that he was one of those old-blood kids that didn't fit in anywhere else, the kid from old families with old money and all that."

"Okay."

"I think he's always identified with the part of him that he knew was a Quartermaine," he said softly. "Michael and Spencer would try to take him with them when they went to visit Edward and Monica. Jake would see Edward in his suits with his pocket watch, conducting business and barking orders and having tea every afternoon and driving his Bentley. I think…I think he was proud that part of him was a Quartermaine."

"Probably because the other part was from a lower-middle-class family," Spinelli sighed, "despite being an illustrious family in this town."

"Yeah."

"So you're not worried? About this?"

Jason snorted. "Of course I am. This could be very, very bad. Probably will be. But I don't think it's fair to say that Jake has no allegiance to the Quartermaines."

"So you don't think he's half as far gone as I do."

"I'm his father," Jason said, the corner of his mouth curving up. "I can't think that. You'd know if-"

"Don't say it."

He bit his tongue. "Sorry."

Bringing up how Spinelli would know things if he had children of his own never went over well with the younger man, and it was the first time in a very long time that Jason had made that mistake.

"I think they're a lot alike."

"The Not So Innocent One and Edward?"

Jason nodded. "Yeah. Jake's using him to get his hands on the company, to expand his holdings and make more money, and Edward's using Jake because he's young, he's charismatic, the people in this country like him enough, and he's smart. They're both using each other, so maybe it won't be as bad as it could be. Or maybe they'll just keep using each other until they wear each other down."

"Look." Spinelli picked up the remote and increased the volume. "They're doing it."

They caught Edward mid-sentence. _"-and based on his exemplary professional record and tremendous skills, knowledge, and uncanny foresight-_"

Spinelli coughed.

"_-it gives me great pleasure to name as the heir to ELQ and the Quartermaine fortune, as my son, his grandfather, wanted before the time of his death, Mister Jacob Martin Webber-Morgan."_

Flash bulbs exploded as Edward moved away from the podium and held out his hand, letting it hover lightly by Jake's shoulder as he ushered the young man forward. Jake was wearing a handsome suit with a pale blue shirt, no tie, with his golden hair parted down the middle, and looked rested, relaxed, and happy. But anyone who knew him knew it was just for the people watching at home.

He flashed the cameras his signature winning smile, his eyes twinkling like his father's sometimes did, and the number of flashes that went off increased. Jason knew without even having to question it that that picture of Jake grinning as Edward's hand sat on his shoulder would be on the front page of newspapers nationwide the following morning. Instead of addressing the cameras first, Jake turned his head and looked at his great-grandfather, his voice still accessible to the dozen microphones clipped onto the podium.

"_Thank you, Grandfather. I consider it a great honor to be entrusted with your name and company, and look forward to taking both to new heights. Thank you."_

Spinelli sighed and turned down the volume, leaning back on the couch. They watched the rest of the proceedings in silence and let their phones ring and ring when people tried to call and presumably ask about the latest developments.

Half an hour later, after the press conference had been over for a while and all the members of the media had been escorted out, Jason's phone rang again. He answered it only when he saw that it was his grandfather, who asked him to once again check the price of ELQ shares.

Spinelli informed him that one share now cost over one hundred dollars.

Edward cackled and hung up the phone.


	47. At Your Throat

**Note – **I don't know how many times I can say this and frankly, every time I have to, it irks me a little more. Hate Jake? Does he give you an ulcer? Find absolutely nothing redeeming about him? Is he a terrible character? Instead of whining to me about how much he sucks, don't read. It's truly very simple. (And to everyone who doesn't feel this way, don't think you have to fall in line, click your heels, and tell me you love him. Just ignore this note, it's not for you.)

**Mean 46**

_My hands are at your throat_

_And I think I hate you._

_We made the same mistake._

-- "Until The Day I Die," Story of the Year

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

He was on his way out to dinner with associates when Elizabeth came home, and she stood by the door for a few minutes just watching him flick through his text messages, his back toward her. He stood tall and dark and imposing in her brightly colored living room, looking out of place and too big for the feminine room.

The corner of her mouth curved up when he sensed her and turned. "Hey."

Jake smiled instantly. "Hey, Mom. How was your day?"

He always asked her how her day was, and amazingly enough, even listened when she went on for ten minutes about it. When she realized some time ago just how patient he was with her, Elizabeth had taken to keeping her answers brief unless she really needed to vent about something.

"It was good," she replied, shrugging out of her jacket and hanging it up on the rack. Her keys went into the little wicker bin that Cameron had decorated himself and given to her one Mother's Day many years ago. "We got the new MRI machines in today, so that was exciting. It's going to be so great to not have all those scheduling conflicts now."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "One less thing for Cam to get an ulcer over."

Elizabeth grinned. "Exactly. Oh, and Leo said to say hi to you and that he's looking forward to Saturday night."

Jake nodded but didn't elaborate.

"…What's Saturday night?"

He looked up, distracted by something on his phone. "Oh. We're just meeting for something to eat, maybe grabbing a beer and playing pool at Jake's. It's been a while since I've seen him, and 

Cam's been wanting to hang out with him outside of work for some time now, so we figured something out."

Elizabeth nodded awkwardly. "Right."

Jake glanced up at her. "You, uh, you have any plans for tonight? You expecting someone?"

Her hand went to the knuckles of her other one, and he knew immediately that she was going to lie. He usually stayed at his penthouse at Oceanside on Wednesday nights, so it made sense if she was inviting someone over, thinking he wouldn't be here. "No, not really. Thought I'd just spend a relaxing evening in. Get some food, watch a movie. That sort of thing."

He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, have fun. I gotta go."

She nodded and moved into the living room as he hopped up onto the landing and grabbed his overcoat and the keys to his Bentley. That car always made an impression on associates.

"I'll be late, so I'll probably just go back to Oceanside."

"Okay, honey." Elizabeth sat down on the couch and drummed her hands on her knees. "Stay safe. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night, Mom."

He pulled the door shut behind him and sighed, then took in a deep gulp of the brisk night air. With his overcoat slung over his arm and his keys in hand, Jake just stared up and down the street. It was empty tonight, but then again, it was getting a little late. And there weren't that many children left on their street anymore, just older couples who most likely already had dinner and were now turning in for the night. Cherry Blossom Lane had been much noisier and alive when he was a kid, when there were others like him always to be found nearby.

Across the street, the lights in the Zacchara house were on and winking at him. He knew that Nadine and Johnny were staying on more and more at Crimson Manor in Crimson Pointe these days, especially since Nadine switched to being a part-time nurse, so the only person home at 235 was Amalia. He could barely see her moving through her bedroom upstairs, her body tall, lanky, and filmy thanks to the obscuring curtains.

Jake sighed again and pressed the button on his key set. The Bentley beeped, its lights going off, and started on its own. He shuffled down the walkway, looking over his shoulder to see his mother in the living room. She was moving around and appeared to be tidying up for that guest she had denied. He knew without even having to question it who was coming over.

Things between him and his mother had been a little strained, just a little awkward since he got out of the hospital. She would want to talk about Jason and about how much he wanted to be a father, but Jake wouldn't listen. She kept pressing the subject and pressing it until he finally couldn't take it anymore and delivered his stark explanation for his conduct. It didn't matter to 

him that Jason really wanted to be a father, it didn't matter to him that he proposed to Elizabeth three times, it didn't matter to him that he tore the ground up searching for Jake when he'd been kidnapped.

Elizabeth's eyes had welled up with tears when he informed her that none of that _meant_ anything because he was too young then. He didn't remember hearing the sound of Jason's voice when he was little, reassuring him, comforting him. He didn't remember Jason hugging him, touching him, stroking his cheek. He didn't remember how Jason smelled or the texture of his t-shirt against his face when he held him. He didn't remember any of that, so none of it meant anything to him. How could it? It might as well have never happened. Jason wasn't any kind of father to him while Jake was growing up and cognizant; in this case, actions meant even less than words.

After that, it was like his mother had given up. He knew that wasn't the whole truth: Elizabeth Webber never gave up when something mattered to her. She just didn't know how. Jake knew that even though she didn't bring up Jason all that much anymore in her candid attempts to bridge the gap between them, his mother still held out hope that the two of them would find a way to have some sort of relationship. And of course, he didn't have the heart to tell her it would never happen.

He pulled the door open and slid into his seat, flicking on the seat warmers as he tossed his overcoat onto the backseat. The car was started and already warmed up, so Jake shifted into gear and slowly pulled into the street. Even over the hum of the engine, he could hear the sound of a motorcycle rumbling in the distance, growing closer and closer as he drove away.

* * *

**.: Penthouse 2, Oceanside Towers :.**

"We need to talk."

Jake, who was sitting on Morgan's couch in the empty penthouse looking at a few contracts his best friend had drawn up, looked up and shot his father a bland look when he saw him standing in the doorway.

"What, no hello?"

"Jake." Jason's expression didn't change. "I thought I'd find you here, and I came to talk to you. I don't care if you're busy, whatever it is you're doing can wait."

Jake arched a brow and held up the packet of papers in his hand. "Finding a cure for AIDs can wait?"

Jason blinked. "…You're trying to find a cure for AIDS?"

"No," he admitted, stuffing the papers back into the file and standing smoothly. "I just really don't want to have this conversation."

"Too bad," Jason growled, stalking forward into the room. He kicked the door shut behind him and faced Jake directly. "You're not getting out of it this time. You're going to listen to what I have to say."

Jake turned away from him and stood at Morgan's desk, going through a large stack of files. Jason didn't let that discourage him.

"You need to know why I gave you away."

He didn't turn around.

But he didn't say anything, either, and Jason figured that was good enough.

"My life wasn't safe." He hated having to repeat that phrase, but it was the truth. "It wasn't safe for you and your brother and your mother. I could have kept guards on you all the time, I could have kept you in my penthouse and hardly ever let you go outside, I could have done all the things Johnny and Sonny did. But even if I did all that, at the back of my mind I'd always worry that there was some way that you'd get hurt. And I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if _anything_ happened to you, Cameron, or your mother."

Jason swallowed roughly. "Giving you up was the single hardest thing I ever did. You never really know what you're capable of until that moment's staring you in the face and making you decide. I loved kids. Loved them ever since I took care of Michael. Since then, I wanted one of my own more than anything. I never would have imagined that one day I'd have one and make the conscious decision to walk away."

Jake's back was still toward him.

"It was something I never got over. I'd see you and your mother and brother all over town. I'd see you at Kelly's, I'd see you at the hospital, I'd see you at the coffee shop sometimes. I'd see you at Carly's all the time. And it took everything in me not to walk up to you guys and sit down next to you as if I belonged there. I _wanted_ to belong there, more than I've ever wanted anything."

"Yeah, well, you didn't." Jake's low growl cut him off. "And it was your own damn fault, your own fucking decision."

"Don't you think I know that?" Jason growled back. His son slowly turned, but his eyes were like ice. "What the hell do you think I've been thinking about these past twenty years? Every time I saw you, Jake – Christ, it _never stopped. _I thought it would get easier. I thought it would get easier the longer I stayed away, the older you got, the more I got to watch you from the sidelines as Morgan's friend. I thought it would get easier and it never did. Every single day was a struggle – every single time I saw you was a struggle not to pick you up in my arms and just be your father."

"Great." His tone was bland, his eyes vacant, and his expression gave nothing away as usual. "So here we are. Nice to meet you."

Jason snarled and fisted his son's pressed dress shirt, and he could tell how stunned the boy was when he hauled him forward until they were practically toe to toe. Good. It was about time the little asshole showed some emotion.

"When are you gonna drop it?" He gritted his teeth and held firm even when Jake struggled. "When, huh? I'm fucking sick and tired of this. You wanna nurse this grudge? Go ahead. But don't sit there and pretend you know everything when you don't. You know _nothing _about what happened between me and your mother, how hard it was for us to give you the life we felt you deserved. You wanna be a hard ass about this? At least have the balls to deal with it out in the open!"

"Fine!" Jake brought his arms up and easily disengaged Jason's hold, his eyes blazing. "You want me to deal with this? _Fine_. I know more than you think about what you did to my mother. I know that even though she was your friend for years, she was just a one night stand to you the night I was conceived. And your fucking defective condoms were to blame. Yeah, I can read a microfilm," he grumbled when Jason's eyes widened. "ELQ's defective prophylactics were big news twenty years ago."

He snarled under his breath. "You kept everything a secret – sleeping with my mother, until that came out in a court transcript, being my father, everything. There were plenty of chances for you to come forward, plenty of fucking chances for you to get your head out of your damn ass and figure out that the all-powerful mob isn't the only dangerous thing in the world. _I was fucking kidnapped_. Our house almost burned down with me in it. If none of that clued you in that there are worse ways for kids to die than being used as mob targets, then maybe I should have kissed off to teach you the lesson."

Jason's eyes blazed. "Don't say that. Don't you _ever_ say that."

"You kept me a secret despite all that." His lips pressed into a thin line. "Despite all that, you stayed away from me when you brought me back to Mom and Cam, you stayed away from me after I was admitted for smoke inhalation and carbon monoxide poisoning. You stayed away from me after all that, you decided that the business was worth more than me and my mother."

"I made that choice long before you were born," Jason tried to explain. "Long before I ever imagined I would have you-"

"You passed me off as the son of a drug addict who was in a relationship at the time with the woman that stood by and watched me get abducted and hired armed thugs to threaten me, my mother, and my brother!" he yelled. "In what world did that seem like a good idea? How could you possibly think for one minute that having Lucky around would be better for me than having you around?"

Jason didn't have time to wonder if Jake realized that he admitted that as a child, he would have preferred to have him around despite everything. "Lucky was a cop-"

"A drug-addicted cop who once left his pills out in the open next to my brother's toys," Jake spat. He chuckled when Jason's eyes widened. "Yeah, you didn't know that, did you? I heard my mother talking to Aunt Robin about it when I was ten and she had a really big fight with Lucky about me going with Morgan and Mike when Jax took them camping. Guess you didn't do your homework when shopping around for a fucking father for me."

Jason closed his eyes. "He was clean, he promised to stay clean. I told him that if he ever took another pill, I'd get you away from him-"

"That's really nice," he replied, folding his arms over his chest. His voice lacked malice and was low and polite, and Jason was instantly suspicious. "You'd claim me if you had to. If Lucky took pills, if I needed a marrow transplant – _you'd claim me only if you had to._ You'd never do it on your own. You and my mother both. You might have wanted the secret to come out, but you never would have done it on your own. You'd have let someone else out the whole thing, maybe even cheer them on as they did it, but you'd never do it on your own. You'd only acknowledge me as yours if you were forced."

Jason's breath caught. "Jake, you were never an obligation to me-"

"You certainly made my mother feel like one," he hissed. "I've heard the stories, I heard about how you told her you wouldn't hurt that whore, Sam, after my mother admitted I was yours."

"That was-"

"You spent all your time with Sonny and Carly and _their_ kids," he interrupted, his face growing redder and redder. "You didn't even think of her."

Jason gritted his teeth. "Not a _day_ passed where I didn't think about your mother. Not a single day, do you understand me?"

"What about when she needed you?" his son challenged. "Did you ever think about how Mike getting shot as a kid might have affected her? It was her worst fear come true – a kid getting hurt and almost killed just because who his father was. I know exactly what happened at that time – you left her alone and broke off your engagement to her and spent all your time with Carly, comforting _her,_ supporting _her, _protecting _her_, sharing her grief and her pain and her fears while my mother had to figure out a way to get on without you. Did you ever _once_ think about how Mike almost dying made her feel, how much it would have meant to her if you were just there for her, just for a little while?"

"If I stayed around your mother, I was putting all three of you at risk," Jason maintained. "I would _never_ have let her go through what Michael's family did because of me. She was safer without me, you all were."

Jake snorted and shook his head in disgust. "You know what it is about you? You live your life by other people's rules. You've lived your whole life that way, pretending you were some noble, independent, free-thinking guy that did what he wanted, but you jumped whenever you were told to. Sonny had you on a leash until you took over the business and even after that, you were _still_ expected to clean up his and Carly's messes."

"I did what I could to help my friends," Jason ground out. "That's what you do-"

"What about when Carly was pregnant with CeeCee?" His normally vibrant eyes burned slow and dull. "She slept with Sonny and then her husband, and asked _you_ to pretend you were her father. Yeah, don't think we all don't know about that. Why do you think CeeCee keeps her mother at arm's length half the time?"

He felt like he had to gasp for air. "I never pretended to be-"

"No, but you let the story float out there, let Page Six soak it up until the woman you've claimed your whole life was your _best friend_ figured out what to do and how to juggle the multiple fathers she once again managed to secure for her kid," Jake hissed. "She's the weakest woman I've ever met, always whining to you and expecting you to clean up all her shit and wipe her ass on top of that. It was only when Jax found out from the paternity test that CeeCee was his that he took his wife back for the sake of their kids. We _all_ know about that."

"Look, Jax and Carly worked things out-"

"That's not even the point!" Jacke exploded. "You _let_ her spread that story around so that she could buy herself some time in which to figure out how to tell her husband that she was a two-timing slut-"

"Jake!"

"-and never once did you step up and say that it wasn't true!" His eyes blazed with fury. "All that time, you had a secret fucking kid on the side and you were pretending to claim another one? What the _hell_ has to go on in your head for you to do something that fucked up?"

"It was a long time ago-"

"That's your answer to everything," he spat. "And guess what? That means shit. It's not an excuse, just a chronological fact. You know what's changed since then? Nothing, except that I've had a long-ass time to figure out what a jackass you are. You're still the same person you ever were, the same passive, confused coward taking orders and waiting for other people to make your decisions for you. You're weak. And I can barely stand to look at you half the time. And it is far too fucking late for you to come around here and try your hand at being any sort of a father."

He turned around and ran his hand through his hair, laughing under his breath. Jason winced; he sounded just a little maniacal. "And you know what? You want to know what the most fucked up part about this whole thing is? I would have forgiven you."

Jason's breath caught in his throat when Jake turned to face him, and saw that the younger man's eyes swam with tears he wouldn't let fall.

"I would have forgiven you for everything," Jake said quietly, shaking his head. "If you had just once come around and – and – and told me the truth, admitted everything and just – I don't know – hugged me or something, I would have forgiven you for everything."

He was stuttering. Jake never stuttered, never lost his composure, never looked as wounded and lost and small as he did right now. And suddenly, none of it mattered to Jason. All the anger and the grief and the disbelief just melted away and all he saw was his little boy standing in front of him, vainly trying to figure out why his own father didn't seem to want him.

"Jake." Jason crossed the distance between them, unable to stand it any longer. He reached out to stroke the boy's hair, pat his head, anything, just to bring him closer. "I know I hurt you, and I know that it's going to take a while to get past that, and that's fine, but don't you get it? We can start again, we – we can figure out how to-"

Jake smacked his hand away roughly when Jason tried to touch him. "Get your hands off me. Don't _you_ get it? There's nothing here to do. There's nothing here to fix. I don't want anything to do with you. You made your choices for your reasons, which you've explained in full, and I'm making mine."

So engaged were they that neither man heard the key jingle in the lock outside in the hallway. Jason shook his head, refusing to let his son pass down a verdict like that. "Don't say that. Nothing's ever over, not when the two people matter to each other. You mean more to me than anything in my life."

Jake lunged at him as the door opened. "Stop fucking _saying_ that-"

"Jake!" Morgan and Cameron stood at the door, and Jake stopped cold when he heard his best friend shout.

He pulled back, stumbling slightly, and looked at the hands which he'd almost fisted in his father's shirt. Jake shook his head briskly as Morgan gaped at him, as Cameron moved swiftly into the room to stand protectively between the two of them. Who Cameron was trying to protect, neither man knew.

Jake shook his head again and turned away. "You can go now."


	48. Ravages of Spirit

**Note – **This is such a new experience for me, but I love Carly in the second scene here. :-P Heh.

**Mean 47**

_What ravages of spirit_

_Conjured this temptuous rage;_

_Created you a monster,_

_Broken by the rules of love?_

-- "Do What You Have To Do," Sarah McLachlan

**.: C.C. Designs, formerly L&B Records :.**

Cecily Jax pulled a pin from its secure position between her lips and tacked it onto her dummy, using it to hold the exquisite Chinese silk where it was pinched between her fingers, and tried to ignore her mother who had once again dropped by her design studio unannounced and totally in the mood to gossip.

"And he completely went off on him and then kicked him out without even letting him get a word in edgewise!" Carly huffed and folded her arms across her chest, leaning against the edge of her daughter's cluttered desk. "Do you believe that?"

She waited for a response and scowled when she didn't get one. "Cecily Jane, I am talking to you."

"I know you are, Mom," she sighed, pulling back to study the drape of her newest original. "I just don't have anything much to add on."

Carly rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with you? Don't you care about any of this?"

"Sure, I care." Cecily straightened and flipped a lock of her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. "But I'm not going to go around and discuss it with everyone I meet on the street and conduct focus groups about it."

"Are you implying that _I_-"

"I'm not implying anything, Mom." She gritted her teeth and knelt back down again, gathering up the skirt. "I'm just trying to finish this dress."

Carly leaned back on the desk, looking around the big room where all of her daughter's things were haphazardly strewn. "You know, it makes me sick that he thinks that Elizabeth is this perfect, innocent little damsel wronged by this big, bad, evil philanderer. She had her hand in this, too, you know. She was the one that told Jason to give up the kid – like, the _day_ after he found out that Jake was his."

Cecily's hands stilled, and the silk slipped between her fingers. She didn't turn around, and Carly didn't notice her astonishment.

"It was the day his father died," she continued softly. "The day after, I think. Yeah, the day after. Apparently, Elizabeth met him on the overlook. She said she was sorry about Alan and literally in the next breath she told Jason to give Jake away. Talk about kicking a guy when he's down. I still think that was the only reason that Jason did it, really. She caught him at an awful time when all his defenses were down. He lost Alan because of a mob-related incident at my hotel, and then Elizabeth came along and started talking about how dangerous his life was to children."

Cecily's hands were fisted in her lap as she remained crouching on the floor at the foot of the dressmaking dummy, and Carly shook her head behind her.

"It kills me that that stupid boy wants to blame Jason for everything and go on acting like his mom is this perfect little…" She growled and ran a hand through her hair. "His hate for Jason is so misplaced."

"Jason was a convenient target," Cecily heard herself murmuring. "Jake had all his life to hate him because Jason just wasn't there. You can't defend yourself against that sort of thing if you're not even around for it. Jake tried and convicted Jason a long time ago, without him even knowing. Elizabeth – she raised him. Took care of him. He's always going to keep her on a pedestal just for actually wanting to be his mother and taking on all the responsibilities that came with that."

"Still," Carly interrupted, "she was the one that asked Jason to give him up. Told him to, really. This was all set in motion because _she_ was afraid of his life. If she was really ever that afraid, she should have never slept with him. Am I right?"

The young woman closed her eyes. "Stop it, Mom."

"What?"

"I'm not getting into this again." She stood up and turned on her heel, facing her mother. "You already know how I feel about Jake and about what his parents did. I'm not interested in rehashing and going over things because it won't change anything."

"But-"

"Because as hard as it is for you to remember sometimes…" Her blue eyes were soft as she looked at her, her expression gentle. "This doesn't involve us directly. It's between Jake and Jason and Elizabeth. Not us. So it doesn't matter what we think."

"He's my best friend-"

"Yes," she cut in quickly. "Your best friend. Not your husband. Not your lover. Not anything even remotely close to those things. And you're not Jake's mother. So like it or not, you're going to have to take a back seat here. We all are. Because this isn't our mess to meddle in."

Cecily gathered her things and turned, sighing. "Besides, we have enough skeletons in the Jacks family closet. We don't need to go around looking for more."

* * *

**.: Oceanside Towers :.**

Her son's apartment would be empty right now. Morgan, one half of Corinthos & Webber Coffee Imports, was currently in Manhattan, something to do with his New York Lawyers for Justice organization. Carly listened at his door to make sure even as Jake's guard shot her a strange look, then turned and faced the door right across from it.

She gave the guard a look and he sighed, knocking on the door for her. He opened it and poked his head in. "Jake. Mrs. Jacks here to see you."

She could hear the shuffling of paper and the clink of glass on wood. Then, finally, "Let her in."

Carly spared the guard an arch look and breezed right past him into Jake Morgan's penthouse. This one looked absolutely nothing like the one his father occupied over at Harborview. Jason's penthouse was bare, limited to just the essentials, done up in dark wood and pale creams.

Jake's penthouse was decorated in warm, rich wood, and the vibrant energy enveloped her as soon as she walked in. Carly took a minute to look around, marveling to herself that this was the first time she actually set foot in this apartment. The floor plan was a little different from the one at Harborview; she couldn't see into any other room from this massive living room. Jake had an entertainment center up, complete with a plasma television, and she was sure his various game systems were hidden away in the sleek cabinets. His wet bar was richly appointed and sparkling, and he had framed photographs of his family and friends up on the walls. Unlike his father, he could actually see them clearly.

He was sitting on a black leather arm chair further into the room, a closed file of papers sitting on the coffee table and his drink sitting on a coaster next to it. He stood and waited patiently but arched a brow when Carly appeared more interested in scrutinizing her surroundings than addressing him.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

She blinked and shook her head, her expression dry. "No, thanks. Not thirsty."

"Something to eat, then?"

"No."

Jake nodded and clasped his hands in front of him. "Then let's get down to it. What do you need? What can I do for you?"

Carly's blue eyes were cool but flashed at his vaguely patronizing tone. "You can start by not being so hard on your father."

A mask descended, and Carly was amazed. The boy could turn his emotions on and off as well as Jason could, and he didn't even have the accident to blame. Just good old fashioned mimicry, she supposed.

"If that's all you came by to discuss, I'll have to ask you to leave." He picked up his file and his drink. "I'm very busy tonight."

"I don't care," she replied calmly. "You've had long enough to stew over all this. Twenty-seven years, in fact."

Jake feigned confusion and looked at his watch. "Really? Is that long enough. Oh. No, looks like I've still got about thirty-five minutes left by my count. Thanks for the heads up, though."

"Jake, I'm serious. He's your father. I know you're angry with him, but you have to at least talk to him."

"I did talk to him," he answered plainly. "He ambushed me at your son's apartment and we did talk. Nothing left to say anymore, really."

"What do you mean, there's nothing left to say?" Carly stared at him incredulously, unwilling to believe that any son of Jason Morgan's could be this mule-headed. "There's plenty left!"

"It doesn't change anything," Jake bit off. "We'll hardly be participating in any Father-Son three-legged races soon, if that's what you're hoping for. The truth is out, great. Both of my parents can sleep a little easier at night. But it doesn't change anything. He can go back to living his quiet, everyday life. And I can go back to running my business."

"Yours and Morgan's," she corrected.

Jake looked at her but didn't say anything and certainly didn't attempt to agree with her revision of his words.

"You mean, yours and-"

"Mrs. Jacks." His eyes glittered, and the very corners of his mouth twitched downward almost imperceptibly. "I can appreciate and respect your loyalty to my father as your motivation to come see me tonight. But you have nothing for me, and I have no interest in being your good deed of the day. You might have been able to show up unannounced and get your way without a 

second thought back when your first husband and my father were running the business, but that simply doesn't hold true anymore."

Carly pressed her lips into a thin line as Jake lifted his chin a notch. "If that was your only reason to come here to see me, then I thank you and have to ask you to leave. Have a good night."

She snarled under her breath, then changed her mind and did it again so she was sure he could hear. No sense in being subtle; it had never worked for her, anyway.

"We're not finished yet." Carly unceremoniously dumped her jacket and purse on the couch and stalked across the room toward him. Jake slid her belongings a bland look and set his file down securely on the mantel, as if he was half-afraid she'd take it from him and start leafing through it in her never-ending to quest to meddle with everything.

"It's time you pulled your head out of your ass and spoke to your father," she seethed, her eyes practically throwing off sparks as Jake calmly took a sip of his scotch. "You don't even get it, do you? You don't even get how much your words can hurt him. Out of everyone in his life, ever, _you_ are the one that has the power to devastate him."

Carly stopped and pulled back just a little, staring at him. Her look of dawning realization made Jake profoundly uncomfortable and he shifted, turning his back toward her. He rested his arm on the mantel, setting his drink on the polished wood, and didn't look up when she spoke.

"Or maybe that's it." She clucked her tongue. "Maybe you _do_ get it."

Jake didn't say anything, which irritated Carly more than she could articulate. At least whenever Jason was mad at her, he yelled at her. This little one just clammed up, and it was unnerving.

"You need to talk to him. He's given you plenty of chances, he's always been the one to seek _you_ out and you've pushed him away every time. Man up and start taking some responsibility for your own conduct instead of blaming everything on him. Yeah, he gave you up and didn't spend any time with you when you were a kid. Now you're the one doing the same thing to him. You think that'll fix anything? You think that'll make you a big man?"

She stomped her foot at the unfairness of it all. "My _God_, it makes my blood boil when I see people treat Jason like he's the one to blame for all their problems, that everything that went wrong was his fault, his alone. Everyone makes choices the best they know how, and Jason wasn't any different. You need to get that through your thick skull, little boy. He made his choice based on what he thought what was best for you and what Elizabeth said she wanted. He's always done whatever she wanted him to, it's like he doesn't have the power to say no to her. So when she asked him to, he thought about it and agreed and gave you away…"

Carly trailed off, realizing her mistake when she saw Jake's shoulders stiffen into a straight, taut line. He turned slowly, his grip on his almost empty glass of scotch tightening, and she almost gasped when she saw the look in his eyes. His voice when he spoke was tight and low, growled as if the words themselves would fall apart if he didn't keep them firmly together.

"What do you mean, _when she asked_?"


	49. I Am Small And Needy

**Note – **Thanks to my girls in chat the other night (Lore, Laura, Mariam, Amber, and I know there were more but these names pop up first in terms of discussion) for really helping me synthesize through our comments the main messages I needed to get across in this chapter. There was originally supposed to be a lot more to this chapter (Jason and Liz freaking out at Carly, Cameron and Liz talking afterward, Jake and Jason running into each other on the docks) but it would be way too long so we get this.

**Mean 48**

_Be my friend,_

_Hold me,_

_Wrap me up, _

_Unfold me._

_I am small_

_And needy._

_Warm me up._

-- "Breathe Me," Sia

**.: Penthouse 4, Oceanside Towers :.**

Cameron's gaze immediately landed on his little brother where he was sitting on the brick base right in front of the fireplace, under the mantel that held so many of their family pictures. His suit pants were wrinkled and his head was bowed, and Cameron had to wonder if Jake even heard him come in.

Out of habit, he glanced at the wet bar and the tables. There didn't seem to be any bottles missing, there weren't any empty glasses strewn about that signaled that the younger man had been drinking. And when Cameron sat next to his brother and put his arm around his shoulders, he leaned close enough so that he could detect alcohol on Jake's breath or even a stronger-than-usual whiff of Vicodin.

There was none.

Jake was entirely sober as he sat in front of his cold fireplace and stared at the floor.

"What happened?"

"It all finally made sense," Jake murmured. "Jason's remarks, Sonny's anger, those weird looks Mom would sometimes get when I said anything about Jason just walking away from me without a second thought…"

He shook his head. "Carly came clean. About everything."

Cameron sucked his teeth. "Jake, come on, this is Carly we're talking about. Don't you think there's at least a small chance that some of it's been exag-"

Jake shook his head again. "It makes too much sense, Cam. And I could see it in her eyes; she wasn't lying."

"So she said…"

"That Mom asked Jason to give me away the day Jason found out that his father passed away. Right after the incident at the MetroCourt."

Cameron watched Jake close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose and immediately wondered if it was a headache that was bothering him or just this newest development that made his head feel like it was going to explode.

"…What are you going to do?"

God, Jake hated it when people asked him that question. It was ironic, really, given his intense desire to be the one to have all the answers, be the one that everyone turned to for results. The fact of the matter was that right now, he had no idea what he was going to do. He had no idea what to do, what to say, what to think, or even how to feel.

So he ignored the question.

"You know…" He let out a heavy sigh. "All my life…I thought it was him. I thought it was completely and…one hundred percent, irrevocably on him."

Jake twiddled with a pen cap, no doubt tearing up the tips of his nails on the brick. Cameron wanted to snatch it away from him, but forced himself to stay still.

"And now Carly said that Mom had a hand in it, too." The young doctor scrubbed a hand over his face. "Jake-"

He sprang to his feet and began pacing in front of him, so Cameron just remained where he was. "Carly…" Jake shook his head. "It doesn't take an idiot to figure out that she doesn't like Mom. I mean, I didn't figure it out until I was a bit older, honestly, but I was pretty close to her. I saw her every day, she was Morgan's mom. She was always real sweet to me."

Jake kept pacing. "I always knew how close she and Jason were. It was no secret. Hell, sometimes, she acted more like his wife than Jax's, and I used to wonder how Jax could stand it but after we found out about CeeCee and that paternity mess, I don't know, in a weird way, it made sense that he wasn't all bent out of shape about it. I mean, she cheated on him twice with Sonny and involved Jason both times."

Cameron frowned. "Both times? What the hell are you talking about?"

"CeeCee heard them arguing once," he muttered. "Something about how Sonny told Carly that Jason was alive after the Metrocourt thing – after the rescuers pulled him, me, and Mom from the 

wreckage – and that was when Carly did what she did. And then the second time she asked him to be CeeCee's dad and he never denied the claim even when questioned."

Jake sucked in a deep breath, shaking those thoughts away. "But I think…honestly, I think what it is, is that all the years that Jason stayed away from us…Carly got comfortable. She knew that Mom wasn't a threat to her and her relationship to Jason. They weren't out in the open. Mom couldn't call him up whenever she wanted; Mom couldn't take Jason away from Carly. So Carly tolerated her, was nice to her, even. I guess she still empathized with her in some way because of the whole having a mobster's kid thing and what happened to Mike when he was a kid."

"And now things are different," Cameron finished. "Jason's back in Mom's life. And yours."

Jake didn't correct him, didn't take issue with what he said, and in fact barely appeared to hear him. "She hates Mom. Or at least, hated her once. Maybe she's gotten over it, I don't know, I don't care. And you know, I always kind of wondered if she wished that I was hers, that she had been the one to have Jason's kid. It explained the mess with CeeCee, at any rate."

"But that's not what-"

"I think the only time Mom had any power at all in this whole thing was when she was pregnant with me and hadn't told anyone the truth."

Jake was changing subjects rapidly as he paced, his words tumbling out one after another. He was worked up, agitated, confused, desperate, and Cameron figured that the best thing to do was let him ride it out. So he did what he did best and patiently listened instead.

"When it was just her and you and me, and no one knew the truth about me, she was on her own. She made all the decisions for herself, for you, for me. That was it at its purest. And then when she told Jason, his thoughts and shit had to matter. And then it became about keeping Jason's girlfriend to keep her damn trap shut – loved how that worked out, with you staring down the barrel of a gun – and then it – it became about keeping the family peace with Auntie Lu and the rest of the damn Spencers, then it became about not hurting Pop…"

His head was bothering him. He kept rubbing his temples. Cameron noticed this but bit his tongue to keep quiet.

"She asked him to give me up. Told him to give me up." When he had to sit down on the arm of the sofa, wincing against a headache, Cameron stood. Without a word, he walked over to him and lifted his brother's chin, forcing him to look into the light so that he could check out his pupils. Jake pushed his hands away and turned.

"And he did it because she was scared." He pressed his lips into a thin line and stared at the coffee table. "She was scared of his life and what it would mean for us."

Cameron barely had time to step back, and the coffee table was kicked across the room and ended up upside down on the hardwood floors.

"She never should have slept with him if – fuck."

His heart was pounding, but somehow he managed an authoritative tone. "Just take the pills, Jake. You have your refill – take them."

"Don't want them," he snarled. He wanted a clear head when he thought through this, unmuddled by the pleasant, numbing haze of Vicodin or a single-malt. But it remained a mess in his head, his mind was racing, his thoughts whirling endlessly and painfully about, his head throbbing and aching and pulsing to the point that if he didn't find some relief soon, he knew he'd just want to find a way to put an end to it once and for all.

"Carly didn't gain anything from telling me," Jake said, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. He was switching subjects randomly, rapid-fire, and Cameron was past worrying about his mental condition and didn't even know what to say anymore. "The only thing – the only thing that worked in her favor was that she thought that if I knew, I suddenly wouldn't hate him. And if she could turn that on Mom, then…then the better for everyone."

His older brother gaped at him. "Do you – do you hate M-"

"It's interesting, though," he interrupted, shooting up off the arm of the couch and pacing again, "that Jason never once tried to tell me that himself. Remember when you showed up at Morgan's penthouse when me and him were there?"

Cameron remembered that night. He'd been terrified that Jake would do something he'd later regret. "Yeah."

"When I told him to leave – I said – I said-" Jake shook his head again. "I said that he should have done it all differently. That would have been the perfect time for him to say that when Mom asked him to give me away, he couldn't say no to her. It would have been the perfect time. Instead, what did he do? He asked me what I thought he should have done, just to piss me off, the fucker. And I said – what did I say?"

Cameron bit his lower lip. "…You said that you didn't know, but he should have done _something_ different."

"Yeah, yeah, that's it." He wagged his finger at him and turned. "It would have been the perfect time for him to tell me, for him to take advantage of the situation. He could have deflected some of my anger toward him and at least tried to get me to listen. But he kept quiet. Even after everything, he's still trying to protect her. That's why Carly took it on herself to tell me – she knew he wouldn't. And she knew Mom wouldn't."

"Mom might have," his older brother disagreed quietly. "If she saw you were slipping far enough away, she would have done anything to pull you back from the edge. Even if it meant that you ended up hating her."

Jake turned on him, his eyes wide, his expression stunned and perplexed. "…Hate? How could I hate my own mother?"

Cameron's smile was lop-sided and entirely lacking in humor. "The same way you could hate your own father?"

"That's different," he scoffed. "Don't pretend it's the same thing – don't ever. Jason wasn't there. For whatever reason – in his mind, right or wrong – _he wasn't there_. He never took on even the smallest bit of responsibility when it came to raising me. That was all Mom. She took care of me when I was sick, she made sure I had everything I needed, and she let me know that I was loved and wanted – by _her_ – from the first second she found out about me."

A weight seemed to lift from Cameron's shoulders, and the relief in his eyes was evident. He didn't know how he'd handle the rift in their family if Jake admitted to hating their mother over this. Unable to come up with any words for it, he just nodded.

Jake was back to pacing, his hand movements frenetic as he gestured while he talked. "I'll never be able to give her enough credit for raising us on her own. On her own. She never took a cent from Jason – she just let him pay for college for us, which I've already repaid him for."

His brother balked. "You repaid him for _my_ tuition?"

"No, not yours." He waved his hand as if this was irrelevant. "That's your business, between you and Jason. I paid him back for mine, plus interest, rounded to the nearest nice, round number. She never took a cent for him and just did what she had to do to make things work on her own. She put up with me and, Cam, I don't know if you know this, but I was a little shit."

Cameron actually smiled and meant it.

"I was _hell_ to raise," he announced, meaning every word of it. "I tried to be good but I always acted out and dragged you into my shit because you had to lie to keep me in the clear, but it always came out anyway and Mom was always getting called to Principal Hanley's office or getting notes in the mail or angry phone calls from the other parents. And she'd always find my stash of cherry bombs and firecrackers or my Playboys and she'd catch me sneaking cigarettes and booze and I'd get into fights and-"

"You don't have to tell me," his brother interrupted quietly with a little grin. "I was there. Usually telling you to knock it off."

"Remember the first time Amalia's dad found me in her room?" His eyes were bright as he stared at some point on the wall. "How he dragged me across the street by the scruff of my neck and demanded to know what Mom was going to do with me?"

Cameron arched a brow at him. "I remember that the tenth time he did that, Mom sent you up to your room and promised him that you were using condoms and that was the best she could do."

His lips curled into a sad smile and his normally vibrant eyes misted over. "How could she have done that?"

"Well, I think she was just tired of John holding her responsible for your being a horny-"

"Not that." He jiggled his hand as if shaking something that he wasn't holding. "How could she have asked him to give me up?"

He rubbed his head again. "If – If what Carly said was right, if Jason would always do what she asked, do what she told him…then how could she ask him to give me up if she knew that he would, if she knew that he'd go along with it if it was what she wanted? And the day his father _died_? How could she?"

Cameron sighed, watching helplessly as Jake sank down onto the couch as if all the strength had left his body.

"All my life…I thought it was him. I thought it was him, but she set it in motion. He was still the one that walked away when she was ready to come out with it, to tell everyone the truth, he still walked away from us and broke their engagement…but Mom started it. How could she?"

He groaned and closed his eyes, holding his head in his hands. "…Such a stupid decision. Why did she have to make so many stupid decisions? Asking Jason to give me to her and Lucky…forgiving Lucky for cheating on her with his teenage drug connection…marrying him…forgiving him for sleeping with the town whore…so many stupid decisions. They both made _so many stupid decisions_."

The last thing Cameron would say was to ask Jake what Jason and Elizabeth should have done. Jason had done that the last time he and Jake spoke and the fact that Jake didn't have an answer made his younger brother almost explode as he bellowed for his father to get the hell out. There wasn't a solution to any of this, and Cameron knew what Jake really wanted all his life: he just wanted something different. He wanted his father with him. He wanted his mother happy. More than twenty years later, he still didn't have an answer as to how this could be accomplished so that everyone would be happy, but he'd stopped giving a fuck long ago.

Cameron rubbed his hands together and sat down next to him on the couch. They sat together in silence for a long moment with Jake still clutching his head, and finally the younger man broke the silence.

"I'm going to move out of Mom's house."

Cameron blinked. "Tonight?"

"As soon as I can work up the energy to go over there."

He twisted slightly on the couch. "Jake, don't you think you should think about this a little more? Remember why you decided to live with her in the first place? Don't – listen, don't make a rash 

decision and move out and cut your ties with her just because you're mad right now. Please, don't do something you'll regret later on. Don't keep running from this."

Jake shook his head and looked up, his eyes bleary. "I'm not cutting my ties with her. I don't think I could even if I wanted to, even if I tried. She's Mom. But I can't stay in that house any longer. I…I basically moved out a long time ago and started living here but would go back and sleep there a couple times a week. I can't do that any more."

"Because you don't understand how she could have lied and done this?"

"…Because I just need to get away from it," he admitted heavily. "I can't…Cam, I can't continue doing what I'm going to do if I'm still technically living at home with my mother. I've done it so far, but not anymore. I need my own place."

He looked around the room. "You're going to make this your permanent residence?"

Jake shook his head. "No. This penthouse…it's not really mine. It's just a place I use. It was fully furnished when I moved in. This…This is more Morgan's place. I can't stay here."

"What about that house you bought in the historic district?"

"Sold it."

"What about-"

"I'm getting myself someplace new," he announced. "Someplace…new. No memories, no ties, nothing. Something completely new and blank and clean. I'll do it myself. I just…I just have to get my stuff from the house."

Cameron sighed. "You want me to come with you?"

Jake almost smiled when he shook his head. "No. No, I don't. You don't need to be a part of this. Go home, Cam. I always call you at the worst times to help clean up my mess. Go home, relax, hang with Moll. I can do this. I'll be fine."

He didn't have the greatest track record when it came to being fine, and Cameron was obviously reluctant. "What are you going to say to Mom?"

"…I don't know." He closed his eyes and held his head again. "I'm not going to lie to her and pretend I don't know. I'm not going to do that anymore. She's already a wreck…because of me. All because of me."

"Jake-"

"It's the truth, and you don't have to protect me from it." His lips tightened at the corners. "She's a wreck because of me, because of my lies and my anger and my work…she hates that it's all 

going on under her nose, under her roof, and she can't stop it, can't save me like she always did. Me getting out of there will probably be better for both of us in the long run."

"Mom won't feel that way," his brother told him quietly. "It'll kill her to think she's losing you."

"She's not losing me," Jake murmured, closing his eyes tightly. "…I'm just going away for a while."

They had no way of knowing it was something that Jake's father told their mother a long time ago.

"That doesn't even make sense, Jake."

"I know. It's the only way I can think of saying it, though. She's not losing me. I just…I just can't be there anymore, Cam. I can't do it. I feel like…I feel like everything is just going to explode, that it's spinning further and further out of control and it's all going to fall apart unless I just get myself out of there."

Cameron swallowed roughly and clasped his hands between his knees. Another long moment passed before Jake quietly broke the silence, his voice partially muffled as he pressed his fingers to his temples.

"My head hurts."

Cameron sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know, kid."


	50. Beauty in the Breakdown

**Note – **Thanks for the lovely comments. That last chapter was a doozy to write, lol.

**Mean 49**

_So let go,_

_Let go,_

_And jump in._

_Oh, well,_

_What you waiting for?_

_It's all right; _

'_cause there's beauty in the breakdown._

-- "Let Go," Frou Frou

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

"It was an accident."

"You told my son that I asked Jason to give him up before he was even born." Elizabeth was trembling with rage. "How the _hell_ is that an accident?"

"You _did_ tell him to give him up," Carly retorted. "It's a little late in the game to start pretending you didn't."

"He didn't need to know!"

"And, of course, you get the final say on what Jake gets to know and what he doesn't." She folded her arms over her chest. "All his life, you've decided what he did or didn't need to know. And guess what? He had you fooled this whole time. He's known just about everything since he was six; I just helped him out a little. How does that make you feel? You raised him, and you didn't even know him."

Elizabeth went white, and her nails bit into her palm so hard that they almost drew blood. "You heartless bitch. After everything-"

"Don't turn this into a sob story for my benefit," Carly snorted. "Save that for Jason. He's the only one that seems to fall for them anymore. Because Jake knows better now, I'm sure."

"And we all have you to thank for that, don't we? Super Carly, responsible for spreading truth and justice in Port Charles. Too bad you're the most manipulative, dishonest, scheming whore I've ever met."

"Jake went around acting like he knew the truth about everything," she spat back. "That he knew the truth about why Jason gave him up – only he thought it was because Jason was a deadbeat. I just helped him connect the rest of the dots: it was because _you_ were too afraid to deal with the consequences of what you'd done and that's why you took a son away from its father. And chose 

a piss-poor replacement, in my opinion. Jake thinks he knows the truth about who his father is – it's time he knew what a bitch his mother was, too."

The front door opened just as a smack resounded in the otherwise still room, and Jason's jaw dropped when he walked in to see Elizabeth slap Carly so hard that she left a red hand print on the older woman's cheek.

Jason leapt in between them just as Carly lunged for Elizabeth and held her off. He'd gotten a call to come to the Webber house immediately and was very glad he responded in time. "What the hell is going on here?"

Carly backed off but still glared daggers at Elizabeth, whose teeth were gritted and fists clenched.

"She told Jake that I asked you to give him to me and Lucky."

Jason's eyes widened and his grip on Carly loosened as his hands fell listlessly to his side. "You did _what_?"

"It was an accident," she repeated, honestly seeming to believe it. "I was just talking to him and it came out."

"You had no reason to talk to him!" Elizabeth burst out.

Carly's face contorted in disgust. "So now you're trying to control who he does and doesn't get to talk to? Do you even _listen_ to yourself?"

"Carly." Jason's eyes were like ice, to say nothing of his demeanor. "What did you do?"

She tipped her chin up in the air, her posture defensive. "I went to talk to Jake."

"Why?"

She snorted. "You, too? Are you kidding? I've been around that kid since he was five. Neither you nor Elizabeth get to tell me when or where I can talk to him, or about what."

Jason closed his eyes, but that muscle in his jaw still ticked rapidly. "What exactly did you say?"

A moment of silence. And then, "I told him that you didn't give him up because you didn't want him. That you loved him and giving him up was the last thing you wanted and the last thing you would have done."

Elizabeth came up behind Jason's shoulder, her eyes blazing. "And that _I_ made you give him up."

"You did!" Carly threw her hands up in the air. "Are you forgetting the past thirty years? You spent years chasing Jason around and when you finally got him in bed, you got your wish and got knocked up and then cut him out of his kid's life, ensuring that he would always follow you around like a puppy just to catch a glimpse of his son."

"Carly!"

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true," she hissed back. "And Jake's so big on the truth – her version of it – that I thought I'd even the playing field. You can't get mad at me for that. He spent so much of his life hating you that it's about time he realized you weren't completely to blame for this."

Jason's eyes were turbulent, positively blazing as he stared her down. "And what did this accomplish?"

Carly blinked, frowning slightly. "I-I just told you-"

He advanced on her, snarling. "He already hates me. Isn't that enough?"

Her lips parted in surprise. "This – if he found out the truth, he'd know it wasn't your fault! He knows it wasn't your fault!"

"And now he's going to push his mother away!" Jason practically bellowed. "How is it better for him to be angry with both of his parents instead of just one, huh, Carly? How is it better for Jake?"

She opened and closed her mouth, not having thought it out that far. "But – But he knows that you didn't want to-"

Jason growled under his breath and ran his hand through his hair. "As long as he thought that I was the one that walked away, at least he had his mother. At least he could look at her and think that she had always acted in his best interest without question. All his life, he thought that. And now his faith in her is – is –"

"Shaken," Elizabeth finished. "Destroyed. Because of you."

"Because of _you_ and what _you _did," Carly hissed back. "Don't you dare try to lay all this on my feet. Jason, tell her she's not right. She wouldn't even be in this mess if she hadn't asked you to give your own son away. She was scared of your life, she was scared after Michael, fine, but she did this. She doesn't get to be mad that Jake knows _all_ sides of the story now."

"He didn't get my side, he got yours!" she yelled back. "He got your twisted version of what you thought I did. My God, Carly, do you hate not being on the inside of this so much that you have to do this? Do you hate the fact that I had Jason's son that much that you'd stoop to this?"

"I didn't stoop to anything," she interrupted loudly, her eyes hard. "I told the truth. I told him what you did. And now the chips can fall where they may, and your son finally sees you for the woman you are."

"Get out." Elizabeth was absolutely seething. "I want you out of my house right now."

"I'm not leaving until Jason-"

"My mother asked you to leave." Jake's voice, strong and deliberate, boomed from the doorway, and all three adults turned to see him quietly shut the door and slowly amble down the two steps into the living room. His eyes flashed, but gave nothing else away. "Please do what she says."

Carly snarled and looked at Jason, who wasn't having any of it.

"You need to leave, Carly."

She looked at Jake again, knowing what would transpire after she did, and Carly knew that the three of them needed to have this conversation. Reluctantly, and muttering under her breath, she grabbed her clutch and stalked past Jake, who didn't even turn to watch her go.

Elizabeth wrung her hands together, apparently barely hearing it when Carly slammed the door shut, and looked at her son. Jason, too, turned to him, wondering if Jake would throw a tantrum about him once again showing up announced in Elizabeth's house. But he only had to look at the boy to realize that something was different tonight.

Jake didn't seem his normal brutally collected and composed self tonight. He looked nervous, a little anxious, a little out of his skin. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his black suit pants, and his pale blue dress shirt was wrinkled and he had the sleeves rolled up halfway to his elbow. He licked his lips and looked away, as if collecting himself.

Elizabeth sucked in a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to go to him, talk to him, hug him, touch him, brush that stubborn lock of hair out of his face, but something held her rooted to the floor just as it did Jason. All three of them stood a pace or two away from each other in a room that suddenly seemed too small, too bright, too feminine.

Jake shifted his weight from one foot to the other and peeked up at his mother, his eyes bright and a little lost, a little scared. "Mom? Can I ask you something?"

She let out a quiet, almost shuddering breath. "Of course, baby, you can ask me anything."

He bit his lower lip and tried to be strong enough not to let his gaze waver from hers. "Did you – Did you ask Jason to give me away to Lucky?"

Jason's heart constricted in his chest. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out and it was probably for the best. Since he entered the house, Jake hadn't looked at him. This 

conversation was between him and his mother. And as always, Jason was just kind of there, lurking, in the background, the underlying current that held them together for better or for worse.

Elizabeth took a step toward her youngest, her fingers still twined together. "I only asked because I honestly believed it would be better for all of us."

Something shattered in Jake's vibrant eyes and they grew brighter and misted over, but he managed a small nod as his mother approached with her explanation.

"You wouldn't have been safe," she got out, her voice breaking. "Being Jason's son, it would have put you, me, and Cam all in danger."

His hands trembled and he ended up shoving them deeper into his pockets.

"I couldn't do it." Her lower lip trembled. "I couldn't put you boys in that position just because I wanted to be with Jason. If something had ever happened to either of you because of what Jason did for a living, neither of us would have forgiven ourselves. We couldn't put you boys in that position, and that meant that you couldn't be with – you couldn't be with Jason. It was so much safer if you were Lucky's."

Jake nodded again, the movement so small it was almost imperceptible, and a pit of fear and dread grew in Jason's stomach. He'd seen that look before, usually when he'd looked in the mirror. And he hoped to God he was wrong about what he thought would end up happening by the time Elizabeth finished explaining.

"And when I was pregnant with you, Lucky…" She shook her head, and a few fat tears clung to her lashes. "He was addicted. To Hydrocodone – morphine. He was completely addicted and he wouldn't go to rehab. But then…but then he found out about you."

Her eyes shone with love and something else that Jason couldn't place as she reached up and brushed Jake's hair out of his face. He held entirely still under her hand and let her do it.

"He found out about you and you became his reason for everything. He stopped using pills and he checked himself into rehab. He was more serious about being a good father to Cam, about wanting to marry me again, about being a family. With you. Because of you. You turned his life around, Jake, from the second he found out about you. And I – I just couldn't take that away from him."

Jake's eyes were impossibly bright and he nodded again. Jason was amazed that his boy was still listening.

"Lucky was in love with the idea of being a father to you." Elizabeth swallowed roughly and tucked her hair behind her ear. "We got married again, we moved into the Spencer house. We painted your nursery. He couldn't stop talking about how happy he was to have us all back, how lucky he was, how everything was finally right and going his way and he never thought he'd get 

to feel this. And it was all because of you. Telling him that you were Jason's and making a family with Jason…it would have destroyed him. And I just couldn't do that."

She nodded as if to herself. "Lucky was a safer father. He was so wrapped up in the idea of you as his son. Everything fit so perfectly until it fell apart. And even after that, even after he found out and we got divorced, he was adamant about being a father to you boys. And I agreed. Because he was the only father you'd ever known. He – he was constant and – safe."

Elizabeth licked her lips and continued to look up at him. "That's why I did it. That's why I asked Jason to give you to me so that Lucky and I could raise you and give you the life you deserved. Keep you safe and happy, always."

Jason held his breath, every muscle in his body so tight that he thought he'd snap at any second. He waited for the yelling, for the tantrum, for the furniture being kicked around the room. He waited for something – anything. Anything would have been better than this silence, this soft hush that fell over the room now that Elizabeth had gotten everything off her chest.

In the end, Jake surprised all of them. He nodded again and clasped his mother's hand when he saw how she held it in a tight fist. Her fingers loosened under his hold and he held on to her for a moment longer before slowly letting go and nodding again.

He looked at Jason for the first time and then back at Elizabeth, blinking, and finally found his voice. "All right. I-I'm going upstairs for a bit, if that's okay."

She nodded quickly. "Of course, yeah. Sure."

Jake ducked his head and stepped up onto the foyer landing, then trotted up to the second floor. Elizabeth let out a _whoosh_ing breath and sank down onto the couch, and as Jason slowly lowered himself down next to her, they heard the water running in the hall bathroom upstairs.

"That…went better than I thought it would."

He nodded, still stunned. "Yeah, it did. I was expecting…I don't even know."

"I was expecting him to be _so_ angry," Elizabeth confessed in a hushed voice. "He was so angry with you when everything came out. I-I expected him to feel the same way about me."

Jason reached out and took hold of one of her hands, clasping it between both of his own. She smiled softly and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his other arm around her. They sat together for a long moment until Jason heard creaking upstairs and frowned.

"What's that?"

Elizabeth listened in and then relaxed. "Oh. It's the sink in my bathroom. It gives me trouble sometimes. I think Jake's fixing it."

She rested against him once more and linked their fingers together, staring at the marked contrast between their hands, his large and tan one with her small and pale one. "I think…I think we're going to be okay. I think he's going to be okay."

"I hope so," Jason murmured. "I think it says something that he didn't…freak out or anything."

Elizabeth nodded eagerly. "Yeah. I think it's going to be okay. I'll – I'll have to talk to him some more."

They could hear Jake moving around upstairs, his footsteps slow. From the living room window, they could see Chase leaning against the SUV and smoking while one or two younger guards stood nearby.

"Will you stay?" She peered up at him. "Will you stay and talk to him with me? He needs both of us for this. I think – I think we might actually make some progress tonight. Didn't you see? Carly told him what happened and she said he believed her, but he still came home to ask me to clear it up. He's ready to listen, Jason, I think he really is."

They heard him coming down the stairs and Elizabeth jumped up, pulling him with her. She sucked in a quick breath and turned, ready to talk to him again, but her words died on his lips, replaced with a frown when she saw him set down his red gym bag, the one he used for basketball practice during high school. His room upstairs was a shrine to his younger years, and she wasn't surprised that he had it. She was just surprised to see it sitting at his feet, looking like it was almost full.

Elizabeth took a step closer as Jake turned the knob and opened the door halfway. Chase and two other guards could be seen stubbing out their cigarettes, and that pit of dread in Jason's stomach returned, telling him that he should have known better.

Jake stepped down into the living room and reached for his mother, pulling her into a close hug. Elizabeth returned his embrace, wrapping her arms around him almost desperately as if she could keep her baby close to her by sheer force of will alone. Jake closed his eyes and turned his face into her hair, holding her for a long moment.

Finally, he pulled back and managed a small smile. "I love you, Mom."

Her hands slipped from his broad shoulders not because she wanted them to, but because Jake had straightened and he was so damn tall. "I-I love you, too. Baby, what-"

Chase knocked twice on her halfway open door and poked his head in, flashing the three of them a tight smile and nod. When he entered with the younger guards, Elizabeth and Jason saw that the three of them carried a couple collapsed black duffle bags, perhaps the same kind they used to transport cash or something else he didn't talk about. Jake turned on his heel and walked up to him, stooping to pick up his gym bag. It looked ridiculous, hanging from his shoulder as he stood 

there in wrinkled formal dress. Elizabeth was close enough to hear what he said to his guard; Jason wasn't, but didn't need to hear the actual words to know what was going on.

"Upstairs, second door on the left. Clean it out and have a guy come by tomorrow morning to shampoo the carpet."

"Got it, Boss."

Chase clapped him on the shoulder, and Elizabeth gasped as the guards moved into the house, letting her son step out. He walked out the door and down her beloved cobbled walkway, and she knew he was leaving their home for the last time.

* * *

Elizabeth was devastated.

She'd stood numbly in the living room until Chase came downstairs with the first load of Jake's things and then she'd practically attacked him, insisting that he wasn't going to take her son's things away and that they were going right back upstairs to his room. Chase had gently broken her hold on him, returned her to Jason, picked up the duffel bags, and calmly walked out again. And Elizabeth had stood there, doing her best not to vomit, as they cleared out the last of Jake's belongings and left her house, leaving the street quiet once more.

She was barely aware of collapsing onto the couch once they were gone, and all this time later, the tears still hadn't stopped. Her baby had walked out.

Jason sat with her, his arms comfortingly around her, holding her against his chest as she sobbed. He did his best not to let his own tears fall, but it was damn near impossible with her in his arms like that, sounding as if each sob would tear her apart and cause her to shatter into a million small pieces.

It was late, very late, but he knew there was no way she'd be able to go asleep. Not after what happened. So he just wrapped his arms even tighter around her and held her, hoping that he would be able to provide at least the smallest measure of comfort, even after all these years of not being there for her. The thought that she'd probably cried just like this on the couch the day he broke their engagement and left was too much for him to bear, and he buried his nose in her hair and rocked her gently.

There was a soft knock on the door, and then they heard a key in the lock. Elizabeth gasped and sat up, and Jason knew she hoped it was Jake. But he knew that it wouldn't be.

Cameron poked his head in and quietly slid his key from the lock and back into his pocket. He shut the door and slowly walked into the living room, around the coffee table, and over to where his mother was sitting. He shared a knowing look with Jason, and the older man realized that Cameron knew exactly what would transpire before he came over, meaning that he and Jake had already had time to discuss this and that Jake had made his thoughts known.

Gently, he swept his mother's damp hair out of her face and then settled a hand on her clasped hands. "Hey, Mom."

She sniffled and tried for a wobbly smile but didn't quite make it. "Jake left."

"I know." Cameron pursed his lips together. "I know."

"Carly told him," she got out, "she told him that I – I asked Jason to give him up. I ex-ex-explained to him why I did it."

Jason watched her oldest son give her hands a reassuring squeeze. "I know you did, Mom."

"He left anyway." Her eyes swam with fresh tears. "He took his things and left. I tried to explain. I t-told him that I-I couldn't take him away from Lucky, that he was safer with us and he was listening, he was nodding, but th-then he left. It was like…it was like…it was like he completely shut down. He completely shut down."

Cameron's brown eyes were soft but troubled. "I think he did. All – Mom, you have to understand, all his life, he thought you were the victim in this. He thought you never had a choice. He thought that Jason used you and then threw you away."

Jason tensed, his hand on her shoulder tightening, but Cameron was too focused on his mother to shoot him a properly apologetic look.

"He thought that you never had a choice, that this was all forced on you. That you were unhappy all because of Jason, because of what he did. All his life, he thought that at least that one thing was true: that all the unhappiness in your life could be traced back to Jason, that he was responsible for all of it. And today…today he found out that even though a lot of it was still true, you asked Jason to give him up. And if you hadn't, it was likely that none of this would ever happen."

Her shoulders broke with a loud sob, and Cameron sighed, squeezing her hands again. "You told him, Mom. Like you said, you told him your side of it. And he couldn't handle it. He couldn't handle thinking that you were a little at fault in this, too, just like Jason was. It threw off everything he thought he knew because he always took you out of the equation. All his life…and then he found out…"

Cameron shook his head. His voice when he spoke was gentle but pained, ripped and ragged. "Mom, you broke his heart."

Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand, and Jason knew that Cameron would have said something else, that he wouldn't have left her with that remark without tempering it in his classic way, without telling her something else that would give her hope and reassure her that things weren't broken for good, but unfortunately they were interrupted by his pager.

Cameron, who was technically done for the day, frowned and unclipped the device from his belt, and Jason suddenly realized what Elizabeth must have felt like all those times he left her because he got a call from Carly.

He read the message and, his frown deepening, shot up to his feet, frantically feeling around for his keys. "Oh, no. Oh, shit, no."

The first thought that leapt to mind was that something had happened to Jake, that his son had gone out and gotten plastered and done something stupid and dangerous. "What is it? What's wrong?"

But it was another kind of emergency. "My patient just went into wide complex tachycardia," Cameron explained grimly. "I have to get back to the hospital."

His sober brown eyes shot to Jason's. "You'll, uh, you'll stay with her, won't you? Please? I would if I could, but there's no way-"

"I will," Jason promised. "Go."

Cameron patted her knee once more and rose, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I'll be by tomorrow, okay, Mom? Promise. I'll see you then."

Elizabeth just closed her eyes as he left her, leaning fully into Jason's side as she heard him pull the front door open and step out into the late night.


	51. Outside My Room

**Product Note (mentioned in chapter): **Airbus A380 Flying Palace. This double-decker aircraft is reportedly being outfitted with a marble-paneled dining room, a king-size bed, a tilting whirlpool bath with sensors to keep the occupants level during turbulence and a missile defense system to strike down attackers.

**Mean 50**

_I've hardly been outside my room in days_

'_Cause I don't feel that I deserve_

_The sunshine's rays._

-- "The Special Two," Missy Higgins

**.: Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

Cameron had dealt with the situation at the hospital and returned to 234 Cherry Blossom Lane about three hours later, reporting that his patient was in stable condition and would likely make it through the night. He relieved Jason of his 'duty' to stay on, even though Jason didn't feel it was one, and gratefully ushered him to the door, insisting that he was thankful Jason was there for his mother and that it meant a lot.

As Jason walked down the cobbled walkway and into the street where his bike was parked, he saw Cameron turn off the lights downstairs and head upstairs where the only light on was in Elizabeth's room. Jason stood on the curb and watched, seeing Cameron's shadow as the oldest Webber boy made sure his mother was fine, presumably offering her something to eat and drink, and then left. Another light flicked on in another room only to flick off a minute later and Jason had to assume that Cameron had chosen to spend the few remaining hours of night in his old bedroom, perhaps in an attempt to ease the fact that the other bedroom, the one in which Jason had stood as Jake pulled out four baseball caps bearing identical signatures in an attempt to make him feel foolish, would be unoccupied from now on.

He sighed heavily and straddled his bike. He was getting too damn old for this thing and found himself wishing, for the first time in his life, that he had his car and driver to take him…somewhere. Not home, just somewhere, anywhere, nowhere. His body felt too stiff and tired to drive this thing, but regardless, he turned the key in the ignition and slowly took off down the street, mindful not to make too much noise.

Just because he didn't plan on getting any sleep tonight didn't mean that the rest of the people on Cherry Blossom Lane didn't.

But there was someone else on the street that was a night owl, and Jason didn't know it but he was being watched ever since he came out of number 234. John Zacchara, dressed in his black robe over his pajamas, stood on his porch, leaning against the post, and watched him look up at Elizabeth's pretty house. He'd heard the sound of a car in the street when Cameron returned home across the street and, restless, got up for some fresh air.

He sighed to himself as he watched Jason straddle his bike and sit there for a few minutes, as if confused as to what to do next. There was no need to draw any attention to himself, and so Johnny just stood there as Jason drove away, then continued to stare across the street at what most of their neighbors would have once called the happiest house on Cherry Blossom.

* * *

**.: The Docks :.**

Jason stared out at the water, listening to it lap hard against the wooden planks, and clasped his hands between his knees. He wasn't used to this feeling, feeling useless and out of his skin and removed from everything, but it was about all he'd felt in the few weeks since the truth came out about the paternity and Jake's knowledge of it. He couldn't seem to do anything right anymore. He was failing Elizabeth, his friendship with Carly was falling apart even though he doubted the blonde even realized it after she'd done what she did earlier, and he had no relationship whatsoever with his son.

So Jason did what he hardly ever did: he sat on the docks and just felt sorry for himself. It was a numbing kind of sorry, an empty sort of pity, mainly because he didn't know how he could reasonably fix the situation to a point where he wouldn't feel this way.

He looked up when he heard footsteps approaching and saw his son standing just a few paces away. Dressed in the same suit pants and rolled up dress shirt at before – he was probably cold – he stood at the far end of the docks, his hands shoved into his pockets, and stared at him.

It was about three or four in the morning, and he was still out. Still, Jason couldn't say anything: after all, so was he. Jake's face was cast in shadows and he looked tall, thin, and gaunt. Haunted. And Jason realized he'd have to be.

They shared a cryptic look; while Jason stared at him half-longingly, Jake's expression was bland and stoic. He swallowed hard and began to walk toward him, his steps measured and deliberate, but just a little shaky, too.

He stopped right by where Jason sat and opened his mouth and Jason's heart leapt. For a moment, he thought that Jake would say something, that he'd put himself out there and finally talk to him. But after a long moment, Jake shut his mouth, shook his head to himself, and started to walk away.

Jason cleared his throat and rubbed his hands on the knees of his jeans. "Jake."

He stopped.

"About tonight-"

He heard Jake let out a short breath of air, and Jason shot to his feet when he started to walk away again. "Wait!"

Jake stopped again, still not turning around.

"Look…" He ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. I won't talk about what happened tonight if you don't want to. I'll even promise to stay away from you for a while if you need me to. But I will never turn you away if you need to come see me to talk to me."

Jake's shoulders slumped a little, leading Jason to think he might be on to something.

"If there's ever anything you want to talk to me about," he added, "anything you want to ask me…"

His heart leapt to his throat when Jake slowly turned and covered the two yards between them until they were standing face to face, and Jason slipped his hands into his pocket as he tried to read his son's eyes, the most expressive part of the boy.

When Jake played a romantic medley at Spencer's wedding, he insisted that he never played the piano without his shades, and it was only recently that Jason discovered why that was. Though he claimed not to like music, the emotional component of the tunes he played was obvious, and those emotions had a way of shining right through his eyes when Jake wasn't careful, when he was sad or angry or hurt, or otherwise couldn't keep his defenses up. He stood before him raw, exposed, still the little boy that Jason had walked away from.

And now, finally, they were going to get somewhere.

Jake squared his jaw, trying to get his thoughts straight. Though all of this had happened in the course of one night, he felt like he'd been ruminating over this forever. It still threw him off center, still caused him to feel unbalanced and shaky, like he had no idea what he was doing anymore even though everyone still expected him to have the answers. And as usual, he couldn't let on that he simply didn't.

He wanted to say something to Jason.

He wanted to open his mouth and for once be able to just say something that wasn't laced with anger or bitterness or pain, something clean and new and plain that came from a better place inside him, though he had to wonder if that place even existed.

Jake wanted to apologize.

But at the same time, he didn't. He would never apologize to his father for the way things turned out because it was all Jason's doing. His mother may have made that first decision, but Jake felt there had to be extenuating circumstances. Rumors insinuated that his father made her feel like an obligation; it wouldn't be stretching it too much to think that his mother asked him to give him away because of that. Of course, it was also out of her perverse, unhealthy unwillingness to 

ever let Lucky Spencer deal with his own problems and face the consequences of his own fucked up choices. That also played a large part in it: his mother's weakness when it came to the stupider one of the two deadbeat fathers in Jake's life.

Jake would never apologize for any of that. That first decision may have been all Elizabeth's, that first year might have all been on her when she insisted that he was better off in the Spencer family and kept his real father at bay, but the other twenty-six years were on Jason. _He_ chose to stay away. _He_ chose to keep up the lie when she was more than ready to marry him and have everything out in the open. _He _chose to spend family time with Carly's family instead of his own. And _he_ left the emotional, physical, and financial responsibilities of raising him all to Elizabeth.

Jake would _never_ apologize for feeling how he felt about Jason's choices.

But at the same time, he wanted to say something. 'Sorry' was on the tip of his tongue. He couldn't help it that dealing with his father always screwed him up, always left him feeling raw and confused inside, like salt had been poured into wounds that never once had a chance to heal. Jake wanted to say something that he didn't mean. He wanted to say something that he would look back on tomorrow and question his sanity for that moment. He just wanted to feel close to his father, to feel some kind of connection there not based on anger and resentment, even if it was for a single minute, even if it was based on a lie, even if it wasn't real.

'Sorry' was on the tip of his tongue. He didn't mean it, but it stubbornly stayed there anyway, and he wanted to say it. He even resigned himself to the fact that when he did open his mouth and find his voice, he'd be confessing to Jason that he was sorry for how he treated him, sorry for putting all the blame squarely on his shoulders, sorry for fucking everything up.

And that was why Jake was even more surprised than Jason when he finally opened his mouth and heard what he was saying.

"You miserable son of a bitch."

Jason balked. So did Jake; he just hid it better. He had the practice, while this exposed paternity was still new and raw for Jason, having been revealed barely a month earlier.

In the end, Jake couldn't bring himself to say the words he'd denied all his life, even when he thought he was about to. And once again, he'd fallen back into his old rhythm with his father, the only rhythm he'd ever known with the man.

"I have a question for you." Jake's eyes blazed, his simmering wrath apparent in the way his shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly, in the way he had to keep his hands balled into fists just to keep his head about him.

"What the hell kind of man gives up his son just because a woman asks him to? You couldn't find your balls when she asked you that? You couldn't open your fucking mouth and tell her it was a damned awful idea?"

Jason gritted his teeth. "She only wanted-"

"No, you had to stand there like a fucking tool and agree to give up your own kid because she was too weak to cut her ties with a pill-popping addict that endangered all our lives!" he spat, mimicking the exchange in his father's deep voice. "I mean, 'sure, why not? He only left his pills where Cam could have swallowed them, he only took shots at you and knocked you around while you were pregnant, he's been nothing but a damn thorn in my side since he was a punk kid, he'd be the perfect man to raise my kid since you have a fucking wounded bird complex and can't leave well enough alone when it comes to him, so why not reward all that by giving him my son, sounds like a great fucking idea.' Asshole!"

The last word was hissed with such perfect vehemence that Jason actually rocked back a step.

He didn't have an answer to any of that. Well, he didn't have an answer that Jake hadn't already rejected outright. And even Jason had to admit, the boy had a point as far as Elizabeth's relationship with Lucky was concerned. Elizabeth had never been able to drop that; she'd always tried to help Lucky no matter what he did to her, and Jason had often consoled himself by telling himself that she only did it because Lucky was such a poor excuse for a man that he needed her looking out for him if he was going to live even a halfway-functional life.

But apparently Jake wasn't interested in such consolations, and Jason didn't blame him. Jake had a lifetime's worth of reasons to have very little respect for Lucky…and a lifetime's worth of reasons to hate his biological father, as much as Jason hated to admit it.

He saw that his father had no answer and shook his head, disgusted with both of them. He turned on his heel and walked away, but not before Jason caught what it was that he mumbled under his breath.

"Yeah, we're both fucked up."

* * *

He made it as far as Pier 48 before it was too much. Jake stopped and hung his head, unable to shake his words to his father, unable to get them to stop repeating over and over in his head.

It had been cruel, what he had said.

And more than that, it had been uncalled for.

He'd done nothing more than state the obvious. He hadn't furthered their conversation any, he hadn't gained any ground. He'd just stated the obvious with the sole intention of hurting Jason. He had a pretty good track record when it came to that.

He stood there for a long moment, the toe of his foot tapping restlessly on the wooden planks as he thought it over. In the end, he didn't have to think it over very long.

Jake liked to think that it was the part of him that was purely Elizabeth that made him turn around and double back, that it was his mother's compassion (sometimes her blind, stupid compassion beyond reason that had a way of getting her in trouble all her life) that made him pick up the pace as he marched back to Pier 52.

He didn't know what he'd say, exactly; he didn't have the words scripted in his head. All he knew was that he'd say something to take the sting out of what he'd said ten minutes before. Cameron was really good at that. He was good at saying mean things in such a way that it took people some time to figure out that he was being mean. But more importantly, Cameron was good at apologizing in such a way that he remained firm with his original conviction and simultaneously smoothed over any bad feelings or resentment the other person might have. Cameron was good at all that.

The sound of his footsteps rang out in the still of the late night as he approached Pier 52, just a little out of breath, and Jake looked around the docks for his father. He searched the shadows and the nook and the alleys with quick, darting glances, and didn't even notice that he was holding his breath until he realized that the ache in his chest, for once, was due to a lack of oxygen.

Jason wasn't there.

Jake looked around vainly, still expecting to see his father appear with that familiar, doleful look in his eyes, but there was no sight or sound of him. And Jake hated that Jason's not being there actually surprised him.

* * *

**.: 235 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

"Barcelona."

Amalia smiled gently and pulled her bare legs up onto the window seat. The sun's first rays were barely starting to kiss the horizon line, and she was already up thanks to Jake, who'd appeared outside her window without warning.

Well, perhaps that wasn't fair. She knew that it was only a matter of time before he did, and apparently, so had the others. Amalia had gotten a call from Cecily the evening before, shortly after Cecily's mother left her studios. Her old friend had discovered that Jake's mother was the one to initially ask Jason to give Jake away, something that none of them had managed to find out during their childhood, and confessed that she had a feeling that Carly would seek Jake out and try in her own misguided way to set things right.

CeeCee hadn't wanted to discuss the implications of the new information in her typical non-meddling way, and that was just fine with Amalia. She had resisted picking sides all throughout this paternity debacle, mainly because she always thought that both of Jake's parents were idiots. She knew better than to say that to Jake, though. He would never have heard a word against his 

mother. He might have entertained it coming from her, and while he wouldn't have argued with her about it, he would not have been pleased.

Cameron had sent her a text the night before, presumably during his shift at the hospital. It was a simple message that struck at the heart of her relationship with his brother. _Jake moved out of 234. Keep your window open. _

Amalia had always kept her window open, ever since she was a girl. And Jake had always known that when everything else failed, when all other doors were shut, it was the one window he'd always be able to crawl through.

(Provided that a very displeased Papa Zacchara wasn't waiting on the other side, visions of condoms dancing through his head thanks to Elizabeth.)

Jake was there now, wearing his black dress pants and a pale blue shirt that, even though it was wrinkled and folded up to his elbows, made Amalia feel piteously underdressed in her black hipsters and matching baby t-shirt.

"Barcelona," he repeated when she just smiled. "Didn't I promise I'd take you there one day?"

"You did," she allowed, her hair fluttering in the early morning breeze. "Seventh grade. Right after we did our report on it for Geography."

"And we've never had a chance to get away," Jake pointed out. "So let's do it. Let's go. Just you and me."

Amalia reached out, still smiling gently, and covered his hand with hers. He was gripping the sill so tightly that his knuckles had turned alabaster. "Babe, we can't go to Barcelona."

"French Polynesia, then," he announced stubbornly. "And not Bora Bora. Some small, undiscovered island where we can sit alone on the beach all day without being bothered. And if you like it enough, I'll buy one of them for you."

He used to say things like that to her when they were little, and now he actually had the means to back those statements up.

Amalia swept her thumb across the back of his hand, finding his skin rough and dry. "I know you'd buy me one if I let you. But I don't think it's a good time to get away. Everything considered."

"Why not?" Jake burst out, his eyes blazing with frustration and something she couldn't quite place. "We've always talked about getting away somewhere private. The last time we went somewhere, it was when we camped out by the Catskills. We haven't been anywhere since. We've both been too busy with work and now this – this thing with Jason and-"

"Exactly." She hooked her thumb into his fist and felt him squeeze back. "This thing with Jason. It's not going to go away just because we do."

"West Indies. Cotton House Resort. They have something stupid called a pillow menu, with, like, five different kinds of pillows. You love pill-"

Amalia tilted her head, her dark hair falling into her face before she tucked it back. "Jake…"

"No?" He licked his lips and she could practically see his mind racing as he desperately tried to come up with something at least halfway viable. "St. Moritz. You love skiing and-and Italian aristocrats. They've got tons of both up there."

"True, who doesn't love an Italian aristocrat?" she feigned, pretending to think it over before she became serious again. "Listen-"

"Or we could hit up Antigua Race Week," Jake interrupted, and she saw that the fingers of his free hand trembled slightly. "I have my yacht stationed there, and it's the perfect time of year-"

"Jake." She pressed her thumb to the very center of his full pout and only drew it away when she was certain he wouldn't say anything.

"What-"

"-And you've always wanted to see what Lord Nelson's Ball was like there," he continued, his words rushed. "It would be the perfect time-"

"Oh, God." Amalia pressed her thumb to his lips again, her eyes sober and earnest, and watched his expression slowly change. "Jake, stop. Tell me what happened."

He remained silent for a good, long moment even after she drew her hand away. "I left my mother's house."

She nodded slowly. "I heard."

"Cameron?"

"Cameron."

Jake nodded and looked away, and she could see him working his jaw. "She asked him to give me to her and Lucky."

Amalia nodded again. "I heard."

"Cameron?"

She tilted her head to the side. "…CeeCee."

"Ah." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. That makes sense."

And then, as if they hadn't just started talking about this, he straightened and looked at her with alarming urgency. "What about _Le Manoir aux Quat' Saisons?_ In Great Milton? England's not too far away, and you've always wanted to eat there. And they have a Japanese tea garden. You love Japanese tea gar-"

She took his face in her hands, feeling his light stubble biting into her soft palms, and cut him off with a kiss. Jake balked a little but leaned into her, his hand still gripping the window sill like a lifeline, and let her kiss him. It was a solid kiss, firm and stern and hard, and when she pulled away, Amalia looked deeply into his eyes.

"Stop. Just tell me what happened. Tell me what's hurting you."

He closed his eyes and winced. "…I saw him on the docks a little while ago."

"Jason?"

"Yeah."

She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs before slowly lowering her hands to the sill. Their foreheads remained touching, their faces just a scant distance apart. "What happened?"

"…I made a mistake." Jake's eyes were still closed, his voice low and his words growled. "I said things – I wanted – he didn't even – and I just said it – and then he…wasn't there."

Amalia flicked his chin softly with her thumbnail, her gaze sweeping over his strong features. "He wasn't there?"

"He left. Before I could…before I could…I don't know. I don't even know what I was going to say. Maybe nothing."

He sighed again, and it sounded like a half snarl. "I hate – I hate it when I don't know. When I'm supposed to know but I don't. And people expect me to, they're waiting for me to…something. And I just, I don't know."

Their noses bumped when he leaned into her, his breath fanning out over her lips, and she could hear the ache in his voice. "Please…let me take you somewhere. Let's just get away. Let's go to Beaune, let's go to the Amalfi coast, let's buy an Airbus A380 Flying Palace thing and go nowhere, just sit in the clouds, I don't care. Please just let me take you somewhere."

"I would _love_ to get away with you," she said, her voice husky and just a little raspy from the early morning chill. "You know that. I'd love to get you all to myself. And if you are really set on doing this, you know I'm with you. But I think you're doing this for the wrong reasons."

Amalia ran her hand through his hair, lightly raking her nails over his scalp. "I understand if you're trying to run away from this mess with your parents. It's good to get some time off for yourself, to just get away and regroup when you have to. But if you're doing this, hoping that when you get back, things won't be as messy, things won't hurt as much, things will just be fixed or won't mean anything anymore…babe, that's just not going to happen."

He groaned and she only held him closer. "No matter how far you run, or how fast, it'll always be with you. Jason's not going to go away. Your mother will never stop loving you and doing what she thinks is best for you, even though you're a grown man now. And you will never stop being Jason Morgan's son. It just won't happen, no matter where we go. It'll always be waiting for you when you come back. Baby, it's not something you can just run away from. And I think you'll only end up hurting yourself if you try."

She could see the tears in his eyes, tears she knew he wouldn't let fall. Jake turned away from her and looked across the street at his house. The sun was starting to come up and the sky was changing colors, pinks and oranges mingling brilliantly with indigos and violets. He could see the light on in his brother's room, could barely see him moving around, a dark shadow in the window.

Amalia gently curled pieces of his hair between her fingers, sweeping them back and away from her face, and was suddenly overcome with the urge to hold him, just to keep him near to her for a moment.

"Come inside." She tugged lightly on his hand. "Just come inside for a while. Stay with me. Have breakfast with us."

He looked over her shoulder at her unmade bed, at the comfortable cream-colored lounge chair he'd always liked, and considered it before shaking his head. "I have to go."

"Jake-"

He shook his head again and pulled away, letting his fingers graze hers to let her know that it wasn't because of anything she'd said or done. "I have to go."

Amalia sighed and watched him ease down the roof until he was able to leverage some of his weight onto the sturdy pipe that had supported him since he was eleven. Jake gripped the side of the house with both hands and swung down, landing on his feet and bracing himself by placing one hand on the freshly cut lawn.

He stood slowly, finding himself looking into the quiet study before he turned and walked away. John Zacchara, who had been up most of the night before, was sleeping soundly in his favorite green arm chair as Jake walked down the block as the morning sun climbed higher and higher, faintly shining down on Cherry Blossom Lane.


	52. Boys With Strong Convictions

**Mean 51**

_I like boys with strong convictions,_

_And convicts with perfect diction,_

_Underdogs with good intentions._

-- "So Nice, So Smart," Kimya Dawson

**.: Behind Kelly's :.**

She grinned when she saw him and trotted over, her strides long and easy. It had been three days since she'd heard from him, right outside her bedroom window, and Amalia was relieved to see that Jake didn't look too worse for the wear. He was his normal self, tall and strong, standing there in his dark blue jeans, black untucked dress shirt, and motorcycle boots. He looked tired, but then again, Jake always looked tired to those that cared enough to see it.

"What are you doing back here?" She tossed her hair out of her face and ran into him, closing her eyes when she felt his arms come to wrap around her. "Don't you want to go inside? Get something to eat?"

Jake shook his head and reached out to his left, plucking a large, folded up brown bag up off a crate. "Got our breakfast right here."

She didn't need to look inside to know that he'd gotten her an apple cinnamon muffin, a half glass of orange juice, a cinnamon crunch bagel, and French Vanilla coffee. It was what she usually had whenever they met for breakfast at the little diner.

Amalia leaned into him again and Jake rested his chin on her head before he reluctantly let her pull away.

"So, uh, what'd you tell your dad?"

"Told him I was hanging out with CeeCee and a couple of the others," she smiled, looping her arm through his. "What do you need me for?"

Jake shifted his weight from one foot to the other and decided this whole thing would be a lot less awkward if they had things to nibble and sip. He handed her the muffin and the orange juice and selected just the coffee for himself. Amalia broke off a piece of the muffin and walked with him down the docks toward Elm Street.

"I've, uh, been trying to find a place to live."

She looked at him with concern. "Where are you staying now? If you need-"

"With Cameron."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Jake shuffled his feet. "He wouldn't let me stay anywhere else. Said he didn't want me off by myself somewhere."

"Hm." Amalia let her hand graze his arm. "Sounds like Cameron."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "I can't really decide."

"On a new place?"

"Yeah."

She considered this slowly, carefully. "Well, do you have any kind of general idea? Do you want a new place, just on the market? Do you want to design one yourself and have it built? Do you want another one in the historic district? You really liked the first one you bought back when you and Morgan were trying to stick it to Mayor Floyd. What do you think?"

Jake shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I just…want a new place."

Amalia was used to his vague answers, used to those moments when even Jake didn't know what he wanted. "Ooookay. Um, but where do I fit in with this?"

"I want you to pick it for me."

She almost choked on her orange juice. "Me? What? You're kidding, right?"

"Why would I be kidding?"

"Because – Because," she sputtered, "I'd be picking the place where you lived."

"So?"

"You'd have to live there."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Yeah, that'd be the idea."

Amalia let out a little huff. "Jake, I'd be picking the place where you _lived_. Your home."

"So?" he asked again, rolling his shoulders. "I trust you. Just pick something for me."

"But I don't know what kind of place you'd like," she pointed out. "Like I said before – new style? Just on the market? Historic? Brownstone? To say nothing of the different styles."

She began to tick them off on her fingers as Jake rolled his eyes. "Colonial, Georgian, Federal, Greek Revival, Neoclassical, Eclectic-"

He turned so he was facing her and stopped her, putting his large hand over hers. "Amalia. Stop. It doesn't matter to me. Just pick someplace and don't tell me about its history. I don't want to know anything about it, when it was built, who lived there, why they left, nothing. I just want a new place – I just want to live there. And I want you to pick it."

"But-"

"Just ask yourself where you'd be comfortable living," he suggested with a little shrug. "Someplace that you could see yourself being. Someplace you like enough to call it home. Go with that one."

She pursed her lips together and tapped her red nails on the coffee cup he'd just handed her. "…Okay. I'll try to find something you like."

Jake had to laugh at that and shook his head. "I'll like anything you pick out. So pick out something that _you_ like. Okay?"

Amalia nibbled on her lip and nodded. "Okay."

* * *

**.: Cameron's Apartment :.**

A half-eaten Danish from Kelly's was congealing on his coffee table. Cameron walked in, saw it, wrinkled his nose, and promptly began to look around for his brother.

"Jake?" He set his backpack down on the floor and kicked off his shoes, quickly checking the kitchen and main room but didn't see him. "Jake!"

Before he could even think about it, his eyes went straight to his wet bar. But all the bottles and glasses were in order and didn't look like they'd been used, with the exception of a half-empty water bottle that sat on top of his stereo.

Personally, Cameron didn't get it. Jake was one of the neatest guys he knew, almost meticulously so. He couldn't leave his stuff lying around on principle – it was an occupational hazard, after all. While he'd been staying with their mother, he was very good about locking all of his papers and his gun away in drawers, sometimes even under false bottoms in those drawers, where he knew Elizabeth couldn't find them. His penthouse at Oceanside Towers was similarly immaculate. He used it mainly for meeting with associates for sensitive meetings that couldn't be held at restaurants and the like, and had every reason to keep his things locked away and all surfaces clean.

But now that he'd been staying with him for a half a week, Cameron was starting to see what Jake was really like. He was still just as good about keeping what few papers he had with him out of sight, joking that he didn't want Cameron to start out searching for his medical notes and end up having to testify in front of a grand jury, and his gun never left his person. While Cameron didn't inquire about it, he felt that his brother was reluctant to leave his weapon anywhere in the apartment, as if doing so would taint the place. And though it wasn't necessary, Cameron appreciated the sentiment.

"JAKE!"

The bathroom door opened and his brother stepped out, frowning curiously at him. "What? Can't a guy take a leak without all this hollering? What do you want?"

"Nothing," he feigned, flashing him a teasing grin. When they were teenagers, Jake used to spend a good amount of time in the bathroom with his hair gel and Cameron had taken to staging all sorts of fake-outs to get him to come out. "Did you eat all my food or is there actually something I can have for lunch?"

Jake smiled ruefully. "…I ordered in. Should be here any minute."

"Thank God." Cameron flopped down on the couch and rested his feet on the coffee table, waving for Jake to get that damn pastry out of his way. "Starving."

"Why aren't you eating at the hospital?"

"…Moll's making me boycott."

This was the first Jake had heard of this. "Boycott the caf? Why?"

"Their food's loaded with trans fats," Cameron admitted. "Now that California's passed the law outlawing that stuff, New York's next on the list. The bill's being considered by the Senate right now. Morgan probably knows about it. Anyway, everyone in support of it is boycotting places that use that stuff. So Moll says the cafeteria is _verboten _from here on out until that bill passes or until they make significant changes to their menu and practices."

He stretched out on the couch, burrowing deeper into the cushions. "Now, as a doctor, I guess I see the point. Trans fats are awful for the body. California had the right idea. But now I have to find food elsewhere and – why do you keep looking at your watch?"

Jake was saved from answering by the doorbell that chimed just then. He walked over to the door and let in Molly, who flashed her boyfriend a smile and promptly set up her laptop on his coffee table. The delivery man had also arrived and Jake paid him and brought in the food.

"Turkey," he muttered, passing the sandwich to Molly, "chili for you, and mine. Moll, did you get that stuff taken care of?"

"Did it this morning," she chirped. "Transferred all the funds and got rid of the trail. I figured it was easier to do it with one more laundering firm, so I set up another foundation and-"

Jake tipped his head toward Cameron, who was rolling his eyes. "Easy. Give me the specifics later. The Boy Scout's ears are burning."

"Fuck you."

Molly laughed at them and continued to click away on her computer. "Boy Scout's ears can burn for just a sec longer because I have to ask – the thing's on for tonight, right? Solid?"

Jake nodded, knowing she was referring to the hit on a small-time rival that was proving to be much more trouble than he was worth. Carmine Bassurto wouldn't be making it through the night. "Yeah, Chase is handling it personally. It'll go off without a hitch."

She nodded without making eye contact. "Great. Another thing. You said before that you wanted a final run-through of physical properties in this state so you could decide which to keep, which to renovate, and which to put on the market. You want to do that sooner or later? Give me a timeframe to work with so that I can rework my schedule."

"…Let's do it sooner rather than later," Jake finally replied, tearing a large bite from his sandwich. "I want to get that taken care of. Oh, and when we liquidate – transfer those funds immediately to the same account you used this morning, okay?"

"Noted," Molly nodded. "I'll comb through the database and some of Spinelli's files and put together a list of all the properties we own. You want the safe houses that Sonny and Jason set up, too, right? They're part of this?"

Jake nodded. "I want us both to know exactly what properties we have and where. No more guess work, no more surprises. And when it's set, I want you heading out with me to inspect the properties. Chase and Penn, too. We'll take Morgan if he feels like it – that'll shut his dad up about me excluding him from shit."

"I'll make sure they all know when I'm ready," she promised. "I'll take care of it."

"And I want a clean up crew with us, too," Jake added. "The last safe house I dropped into had a dead body decaying in the closet. How Sonny survived, being so sloppy, I'll never know. Have a crew on call when we sweep, in case something unwanted turns up."

"Got it."

"You're getting rid of some of the safe houses?" Cameron licked his spoon clean. "Couldn't you conceivably save one of them and live there?"

Jake made a face. "I'm not going to do that."

"You gotten around to finding a place to stay? Not that I'm telling you to get out – you can stay here as long as you like if you stop leaving food all over the place."

"…I've got someone on it."

Molly giggled at that, drawing a glare from Jake and a curious look from Cameron.

"What was that about?" The young doctor looked back and forth between his girlfriend and brother. "Well?"

"Nothing."

"He told Amalia to pick a place for him," Molly grinned, sticking her tongue out when Jake scowled at her. "She's been combing through real estate listings for the past three days and meeting with realtors and such. El-oh-el."

Cameron winced visibly when she LOL-ed, but knew better than to say anything about it. It was just Molly's typical speech pattern. He was just lucky that she did it only when she was around friends and the men she worked with and not in public or at any of the hospital-related functions he dragged her to.

"You're making Amalia pick out your place?"

Jake scowled again at his grin, glancing at his buzzing phone before flipping it off and tossing it onto the couch. "Shut up."

"Who was that?" Cameron squirmed and glanced at the phone, then his brother, whose expression remained troubled. "Mom?"

"Mom."

"Ah." He scraped together another spoonful of chili, choosing not to comment.

Molly, however, wasn't as intuitive about the situation as Cameron and didn't really know that much about it, so her curiosity remained intact. "Have you talked to her at all since…?"

Jake shook his head. "Nope."

"Are you going to?"

He stared at his sandwich, feeling Cameron's eyes on him. The past week had been a difficult one, one of the most difficult he could remember. He was used to seeing his mother every day, to spending a couple nights a week under her roof, to always having her nearby to fuss and hover over him and make sure he was eating right. This past week, his contact with her had been limited and somewhat strained. He'd seen her once at Kelly's when he was getting breakfast for himself and Amalia the day he'd asked her to take over his house-hunting responsibilities, and had quickly picked up his order and ducked out the back. She'd called him a couple times and he'd either genuinely missed the call due to business or let it go to voicemail.

He knew that Cameron wondered if he'd ever lash out at their mother like he did Jason. And honestly, Jake doubted it. Ever since he'd been a child, he had a real problem raising his voice to his mother and found that he just couldn't do it. It was probably because of all the times he'd hidden on the stairs or on the landing (despite how Cameron tried to drag him to the safety of their bedrooms) listening to Lucky yelling at Elizabeth. He never wanted to be one of those men that insulted her like that, that demeaned her and belittled her abilities.

His mother made very, very stupid choices when it came to the men in her life. Supremely stupid choices. And Jake knew he had to accept that there was nothing he could do to change that. He was used to being able to change things that didn't suit him, and found it difficult to cope with the fact that sometimes, that just wasn't possible. He couldn't go back in time and prevent his mother from making her stupid, stupid choices, just like he couldn't go back in time and shake some sense into his father.

The fact that they suffered for their choices didn't mean anything to him. They made those choices, and what was more, they made those choices for _him_, wrongfully assuming they were doing what he would have wanted, what would have been best for him. What would have been best for Jake was to have had his father with him, so he really couldn't care about how much they suffered due to the mess they and they alone had created. Cameron and Mal both pointed out that his apathy to their suffering was probably because no one had suffered more than Jake himself had.

He knew that his lashing out hurt Jason. Jason was a quiet man that didn't broadcast his feelings and even hid his anger. Jake wasn't like that at all, especially not where his father was concerned. He had absolutely no qualms about letting Jason have it whenever the older man made the mistake of making a particularly loaded remark. That sort of behavior hurt Jason, and there was a small part of Jake that still delighted in the fact that he had that power over him.

But his mother…he knew the silence killed her. Not having him around to talk to, to laugh with, not being able to run her hand through his hair…that silence and lack of contact was devastating for her. And it wasn't intentional on his part, this torture he was no doubt exacting. Jake didn't want to torture his mother. He didn't want her to be devastated because of him, any more than she had been since he joined up with Morgan.

All it was was that he just couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't go back to acting like things were just fine between them, that he was still her little boy and that she was still the largest part of his life. She wasn't. He had his business to run, he had his new name to grow into, he had so many new opportunities that demanded his attention, so many other people that demanded his investment. And what self-respecting mob boss was still a mama's boy?

Jake had to admit, he was still a little worried about how his mother would handle this. He wasn't handling it all that well, either, being distanced from her, truly distanced, for the first time in his life. But when Elizabeth felt that either of her boys was in danger, she fell back into old patterns and made stupid choices. When they were kids and Anthony Zacchara started to get too close, and a reporter had accosted her outside of Kelly's about Jake's paternity, Elizabeth lied and said that he was Lucky's and what was more, the two of them were planning to get back together. The lie hadn't accomplished much of anything, really, because Anthony Zacchara was far too smart for that, but it had caused a lot of confusion for Elizabeth, Lucky, Sam McCall, Jason, and even Cameron, who heard about it on TV and asked if they were all going to be a family again.

Jake just hoped that there would be no more stupid choices on either of their parts. He had his life to lead, he had his choices to make, and he couldn't bring himself to pick up the phone when his mother called and fall back into _his _old patterns. Nothing would ever change how much he loved Elizabeth; he just didn't know that he could ever go back to blindly trusting her the way he did before to always have his best interests at heart. Because he'd realized that at times, what his mother thought to be his best interest was not at all what Jake thought to be the same.

He sighed heavily and set his sandwich down, not very hungry anymore.

"I don't know, Moll."

* * *

**.: Oceanside Towers, Penthouse 2 :.**

Morgan sent off the email to his brother and switched his phone to the other ear. "Yeah, I've still got the list of all the historic properties in town. You want the ones owned by the banks, only? What for?"

He listened for a long moment and finally cracked a grin. "He asked you to pick out his place?"

Her answer made him laugh quite hard, and Morgan couldn't stop grinning at her naiveté. "What do you mean? Come on, Amalia, why do you think Jake asked _you_ to pick out a house for him? Someplace that _you_ liked, someplace _you_ wouldn't mind living?"

He was still grinning as she sputtered out a reply on the other end. "You're an idiot."

The computer screen refreshed automatically, alerting him to a new message, and Morgan opened it and quickly skimmed it while she squawked. He switched the phone to the other ear, a sometimes compulsive habit of his, and scoffed while he typed.

"Oh, forget it. If you can't figure it out on your own, I'm sure as hell not going to tell you. What, you want him to attack me? Forget it. I thought you girls were supposed to be smart about this shit. No, I won't tell you _what_ shit. Figure it out yourself. God."

Another message to his colleague in Manhattan was sent, and Morgan was still smirking. "Forget it. I'll send you the list of places now, okay? Remember, pick some place _you_ like, ok- Hello? Fuck all."

Rolling his eyes, he set his phone down on the table and searched his files for the list she wanted. Within seconds it was found, attached, and on its merry way, and that was when his phone rang again.

"I can't believe this is my fucking day off, too," Morgan grumbled, reaching for it. "What?"

It was one of the officers that Jake and Morgan had on their payroll. _"Mister Corinthos, you need to get down to the PCPD immediately."_

"Paul?" He frowned and lowered the lid on his laptop halfway. "What's going on? What is this?"

"_Your uncle was just hauled in, cuffed and everything, on suspicion of the Bassurto murder. The Commish is on the war path."_

Morgan had already shut his computer and was looking around for his keys. "Is Diane on her way?"

"_She's in the middle of a deposition for one of her other clients at the hospital,"_ the officer explained. _"Meanwhile, Jason's sitting there, cuffed to the Lieutenant's desk. I just walked in to start my shift and saw him, thought I'd call you to come down and get him out of here."_

"Thanks, Paul." He slipped his keys into his pocket and stepped into his shoes, pulling his suit jacket from the closet. "I'm on my way."

"_And one more thing…"_

Morgan was already halfway out the door. "Yeah?"

"_Mister Webber already found out. He's here now."_

Morgan closed his eyes briefly and pulled the door shut with a loud slam. "Jesus Christ."

* * *

**.: Port Charles Police Department :.**

"I want him out of those cuffs – now!"

Jason actually winced when Jake bellowed. Damn, that boy had a set of lungs.

Lucky Spencer, however, wasn't impressed. "He stays where he is, and you can get out unless you want me to charge you with hindering a police investigation."

"What investigation?" Jake resisted the urge to kick over the chair that Lucky had started leaning against. A trip to the floor probably would not go over well. "You obtained a measly warrant, searched his place and found _nothing_, and brought him in anyway. Unless he's being formally charged with something, I want him _out of those cuffs_."

Jason shifted uneasily, adjusting his wrists in the metal links. "Jake-"

His son glared at him over his shoulder to stay out of this, which would have amused Jason terribly if he didn't feel so awkward, having to sit out this argument that revolved around him.

"We know that Jason's involved in the murder of Carmine Bassurto," Lucky hissed. "Our intelligence reveals-"

"Your intelligence has the perceptive capabilities of a Clydesdale. They couldn't deduce their way out of a fucking paper bag."

"Young man, I've had it with your-"

Jake wasn't backing down, and Jason didn't know what to make of it. "Either charge him with something or let him go!"

The two men stared at each other, dead-locked, as the other officers in the room tried not to stare. Jason adjusted his wrist awkwardly, wincing when the metal clinked and once again drew Jake's attention. His son scowled at the offending cuffs and turned back to Lucky, his eyes hard and cold.

"Are you uncuffing him yourself, or am I going to have to do it for you?"

Simply put, Jake hated the sight of his father in cuffs. He hated it as much as he would have hated the sight of his mother in cuffs – and according to rumors, she had been in cuffs at least once thanks to Jason. It was fine if he wanted to hassle Jason and take him to task, but Jake would be damned if he let anyone else do it for him.

Not that he'd ever admit to that.

Lucky Spencer wasn't biting. "You have no power here. This doesn't even concern you."

"Yes, it does," he hissed back. "If this is how you treat Jason after you find _nothing_ in his home to indicate evidence of any wrongdoing, what's to stop you from doing that to me or anyone else in this town? Huh? Forget evidence – all you need is a well-placed vendetta to jerk off to, _Commissioner._"

Lucky gritted his teeth and stood to his full height. "Why don't you go on home, _son_?"

"Jake!"

Every muscle in his body had tensed as Jason saw his son lunge at Lucky, and he only relaxed slightly when Jake backed off at the sound of his name. Still snarling, he glared daggers at Lucky as one of the lieutenants came to stand between them.

"Come here." Jason closed his eyes and let out an impatient huff. "Come here, Jake."

Reluctantly, and still seething, Jake shoved his hands in his pockets and drew closer as Lucky continued to smirk at him. "What do you want?"

Jason let out a slow, calming breath and met his gaze directly. "Don't let him get a rise out of you. It's what he wants so that he can push you to do something you regret, or say something you regret, so he can use it against you. Trust me."

He adjusted his wrists awkwardly and managed a small, sheepish smile. "I've been here enough to know."

Jake grumbled something under his breath and straightened to his full height, looking down only when Jason cleared his throat.

"Don't – Don't let him use the fact that he's your…your father against you," he said slowly. "He's used it against the rest of us often enough."

His lips curled into an unforgiving grimace as Jake turned on his heel. "He's not my father."

Lucky looked up with feigned bland surprise as Jake walked over to him again, looking far more composed. "Did the pep talk work?"

"Better than any of the ones you ever gave…or would have given if you could have been bothered to be around," Jake smiled, looking every bit the snake Jason knew he could be.

The Commissioner's eyes darkened. "What do you want?"

"You said I had no power here." Jake slipped his hands into his pockets, aware that he was now the subject of attention for the entire room. "You might be right. I have no power within these four walls. I'm just another citizen, another person you're sworn to_ serve and protect_."

Lucky's eyes narrowed. "Yeah?"

He leaned closer. "But I never forget who I am outside these walls. I'm Jake Webber. And don't you forget that, either. If I want to, I can make things very, very difficult for you, _Commissioner_. And I can do it all legally, too."

Lucky slammed the file he held onto the desk, his expression stormy. "You think you can just walk in here and start throwing around threats? Do you have any idea-"

"Whoa, whoa." Jake held up his hands with a smile and actually backed down a step. "I don't recall making any threats, Commissioner. Certainly none against you. All I did was state the facts. The burden of interpretation falls on you, not me."

He snarled audibly, and his narrowed eyes practically threw off sparks. "You know what's changed about you since you became a gangster?"

"Alleged," Jake corrected as he pretended to consider the question. "As for the rest of it…well, I've found that I don't enjoy 'The Boondock Saints' nearly as much as I used to. Pretty grim movie, really."

Lucky rolled his eyes. "You've started to think that you're somebody, that you have all the answers, that just because you have some cash, you've got all the power. Let me tell you something: you will always be Jake Webber, your mother's son. Money doesn't buy class, and it only buys the illusion of respect. I've taken down plenty of guys that thought they had it all, that thought they were at the top of their game, but in the end it meant nothing because they were the same two-bit scum they ever were and all their supposed friends would have thought nothing of gunning them down-"

"Hey!" Jason jerked at the cuffs when he tried to stand and winced when the metal rubbed against bone. "What the fuck's the matter with you?"

Jake discreetly held out a hand, lifting just his fingers, letting him know it was fine. Without breaking Lucky's stare, he eased closer, as grim as ever.

"You want me to tell you how I've _really_ changed since I grew out of being two-bit scum, as you put it?"

Lucky closed his eyes. "That's not what I meant and you know it-"

"I've changed because I've met the right people," Jake interrupted coldly. "Because I let the right people get to know me. Because I let the right people owe me favors that I can call on at any time."

Lucky said nothing, and Jake's tight, low voice cut through the tense silence. "Do you know who I had dinner with last night? The mayor."

"Garrett Floyd?" Lucky scoffed. "So what?"

"-Of New York, not Port Charles," Jake sneered, chiding his stupidity. "All I have to do is place one phone call to him and he'll have you out cleaning parking meters."

He turned slightly and pointed at his father. "So are you going to uncuff him or not? Think carefully."

"But do make it quick," came a voice from the other side of the room, and Lucky turned around to see Morgan Corinthos stroll into the PCPD. "Because if I have cause to believe that you're holding my client without formally charging him, this _will_ get ugly."

Lucky glared at the younger man. "Since when is he your client?"

"Since I announced him as such," Morgan volleyed back. He set his briefcase on the desk and arched a brow at him. "Well, Commissioner? What say we make this whole mess go away? I'd hate for tomorrow's headlines to paint an unflattering picture of you in any way."

Jake smiled, thinking of the men in the press that they had on their payroll, and knew that Lucky was down for the count. Apparently, his pseudo-father knew it, too, and after a long moment, tersely ordered one of his officers forward to uncuff Jason.

Once the cuffs were off, Jason got up and straightened to his full height, rubbing his wrists as he looked back and forth between the two boys. Only Jake met his gaze; Morgan was occupied elsewhere.

"And another thing," he said, looking sternly at Lucky. "Don't think I won't slam you with harassment charges just because you're my mother's cousin. You pull this shit again, it'll be your ass on the line. Got me?"

Jake ignored the verbal sparring the two of them were engaged in and watched Jason rub his wrists. He felt like he should say something, especially with the way his father was watching him. He felt like he should apologize. Hell, he wanted to apologize – for his outburst on the docks the week before, nothing else. And apologizing to Jason wasn't that big a deal. He'd apologized to him before, that time he'd admired his bike outside Kelly's. It could be done.

But in the end, and after a long moment spent just looking at him, Jake slowly turned on his heel and walked out of the police department.


	53. Treat Me Bad

**Note – **I really hope not to put Mean on hiatus when law school starts on Monday. It is not the kind of story that can be put on hiatus, if that makes sense.

**Mean 53**

_Oh, baby love,_

_My baby love,_

_I need you,_

_Oh, how I need you._

_But all you do is treat me bad,_

_Break my heart and leave me sad._

-- "Baby Love," Diana Ross

**.: Harborview Towers, Penthouse 4 :.**

"I'm surprised he did it, to be honest."

Jason quirked a weary smile at his old friend. "Yeah, you're not the only one."

"Defending you like that, harassing Lucky until Morgan could get there…" Spinelli trailed off and shook his head as he stood by the fireplace. "I would never have thought he had it in him to do that. For you."

"I know." Jason twiddled his thumbs together between his knees, watching Spinelli stand there with one arm slung over the mantel. "And he actually stopped when I called his name, right when he was about to attack Lucky."

The younger man pulled a face. "He was actually going to, though. I can't get over that. I would have thought that he would have more sense than to physically assault the police commissioner in the PCPD. Surrounded by witnesses. All of them cops, no less."

Jason shrugged uneasily. "He…gets emotional."

Spinelli's eyes flicked to his. "Over you."

When Jason didn't say anything, he shook his head. "No. He gets angry. The Not So Innocent One has an anger problem. He has…many problems."

He cleared his throat gruffly. "You don't – you don't like him much, do you?"

Spinelli closed his eyes. "It hurts that I don't like him," he admitted slowly. "Especially because I feel like I've loved him all his life. Just because he was your son, just because he was yours. But the person he is now, the man he's become…"

He shook his head away, and his lips pulled into a perplexed grimace. "Sons don't do that. Not to their fathers. _Sons do not do that._"

And there it was: the heart of the issue for Spinelli. He never really realized that he wanted children until he and Maxie couldn't have any. They decided that with their lives and the kind of people they knew by choice and not, it was probably for the best. But because of that news that he and his wife received from Kelly Lee, Spinelli had forced himself to shut out the idea of fatherhood. And in doing so, he'd built up grand ideas of fathers and sons and that unique dynamic.

Jake's actions and feelings toward Jason puzzled Spinelli, astounded him, infuriated him, and disgusted him. And that was because he just couldn't fathom that a son would ever, could ever feel that way about the man that sired him. It just wasn't possible as far as Spinelli was concerned. And since it was, since the proof was staring him right in the face in the form of Jake Webber…it was an abomination.

"What do you think he's up to?"

His voice stirred Jason from his musings. "What?"

"Jake," Spinelli replied, his words clipped and terse. "He's been laying low for about a month after the story broke nationwide. He probably leaked those photos, he refused all interviews, making me think he had something big planned business-wise, but so far…nothing. What do you think he's up to?"

"I don't know," Jason replied honestly. "And I don't have any way of knowing anymore, either."

Not since all of the men that were loyal to them had been phased out of the organization. Even those that pretended to be loyal to Jake and Morgan found themselves handed recommendation letters and very hefty severance packages. There was no one on the inside anymore, and that struck Jason as devastatingly ironic: He was on the outside of the business that he had created from the inside.

"You think he's finally starting to take it easy?" Hopeful green eyes found his. "You think he's finally going to slow it down?"

Jason shook his head, the corners of his mouth tightening and pulling downward. "Not a chance."

"Yeah," Spinelli mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face. "With a chip that size on his shoulder? You're probably right."

* * *

**.: General Hospital :.**

"Let's get the hell out of here."

Molly looked up with a smile as her boyfriend sidled up next to her at the hub where she was clicking away on her laptop. "Yeah? And where would we go?"

"Jake says the islands of French Polynesia are nice," Cameron shrugged, shoving his hand in the pocket of his white coat. He skated by without it a lot when he first started to work here but as Department Head could no longer escape it. "Let's go there. I don't even care, though, let's just get out of here. Take a vacation, go someplace sunny, relax, unwind, not think about scabs or sores or purpura…"

"Purpura?" Molly wrinkled her nose. "Bacterial or fungal-"

"Discoloration caused by subdermal bleeding," Cameron cut in. "I spent the past three days on a patient that Doctor Caine insisted was an autoimmune, and we were told that the rashes she had were actually rashes, nothing else. Turns out, no, purpura. She's pregnant and going through T.T.P. Autoimmune, my ass."

"Aw." She laughed and leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. "Sounds like you had a rough week."

He sighed and leaned against the counter. "Yeah, I guess. But I also haven't clocked out in a long time. I hardly even use my vacation days. So what do you think? We could check our schedules, turn in the forms, and then maybe Jake'll let us take the jet over to French Polynesia or some wonderful place where you don't get any cell phone service."

Molly laughed. "Oh, I am totally ready, trust me. Jake's got something in the works so he'll need me in a couple weeks, but he's got a bunch of other guys that I'm training who can help him out. I think he'll be fine with it. And my _God_, my mom and dad have been after me like rabid dogs. I think there's something in the water. Mom's pestering me about who I work for and Dad's pestering me about who I sleep with. I just can't win."

Cameron grimaced at the thought of her father, formidable attorney Ric Lansing, poking around in their relationship. "Yeah, we both need to get away. Mom's been doing a bit better, and she has Aunt Robin and Uncle Pat around. Jason, too, I guess. She's been spending most of her time with Aunt Robin, anyway, since Uncle Nik hasn't talked to her since the truth about Jake came out and since she won't talk to Amalia's parents because they knew about it and didn't tell her they knew."

Molly rolled her eyes but remained silent.

"I think she'd be okay if I took a little vacation," Cameron nodded, sounding more sure of himself now. "Besides, this has to stop. If I have to treat one more teenage boy who has a rash on his penis from sticking it in a jar of Marshmallow Fluff-"

"Wait, wait, wait." Molly shut her computer down and stared at him. "Penises? In jars of Marshmallow Fluff?!"

Cameron shifted guiltily. "…Long story. We're kind of, um, we're kind of masturbatory McGyvers at a certain age. Things get out of hand."

"Clearly," she muttered, making sure her computer was off. Jake was visiting one of his guards who was currently in the hospital with kidney stones. He was a new hire and his insurance information hadn't yet been filed, so Jake had come by to personally assure him that his medical expenses would be taken care of and that there was no need to worry. She was expecting him shortly and they were supposed to head over to the warehouse to meet with Chase and Penn to go over the list of the safe houses and other properties she'd compiled.

"Hey, you know where we could-" She stopped when she saw Jake coming around the corner and snapped her mouth shut when he abruptly backtracked and retreated so he was no longer in view. Molly only had to turn to her right to see the reason: Elizabeth Webber was walking toward the hub with a junior nurse, talking to her about something.

She smiled at her boyfriend's mother, receiving a smile and quick greeting in return, as Elizabeth deposited two charts in an empty bin and grabbed three others before hopping down and disappearing down another hallway. After she was gone, Jake poked his head out and made his way toward the elevator.

Molly frowned a little as she picked up her notebook computer, holding it in the crook of her arm, and flashed Cameron a smile before she followed Jake into the waiting elevator cab.

* * *

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

Jake was playing pool with Anna, and together the two of them were trying to help Cecily perfect her shot. The girls had gotten tired of it and went over to the bar to see if Coleman would make them something to eat, and when Jake leaned against the felt-top table, beer in hand, Jason saw his opportunity and took it.

"Hey."

Jake looked up at him with mild annoyance and lowered his bottle. "Hey."

There was never any point in small talk, and Jason wasn't even sure he could engage in it if his life depended on it. "Listen, about what happened the other day at the PCPD…"

"How are your hands?"

He stopped and blinked at him. "What?"

"Your hands," Jake repeated, taking another pull from his bottle. "From the cuffs. You've got burns."

"Oh." Jason pulled his hands out of his pockets and looked at the wrists where the metal handcuffs had left red marks and bruises on his skin. "It's not that bad. Had 'em before."

Jake nodded. "Right."

"Listen, about-"

"Did you tell anyone what happened?"

"What?"

"About the arrest." He took another sip of his beer. "Lucky had to agree that he'd keep it quiet and so would the rest of his officers so word didn't get out, otherwise the whole department would be in hot water. That's what Morgan said he said."

Jason nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I think Morgan scared them all pretty good."

"So you tell anyone?"

"Sonny. And, uh, Carly knows."

Jake arched an eyebrow. "That it?"

Jason nodded uneasily. "Yeah."

The young man took another sip of his beer. "Thought so."

For some reason, his tone made Jason bristle, even though Jake wasn't being scornful in the least. "Your mother doesn't need to know."

Jake shrugged. "Okay."

"It would just worry her."

"Right."

"And she'd want to confront Lucky about it and she doesn't need to get in the middle of our personal disputes anymore. Lucky and I haven't gotten along in decades, and nothing she does will change that."

"Of course not."

Jason let out a short burst of air through his nose. "I'll tell her if it comes up. I haven't intentionally been keeping it from her. If it comes up, I'm not going to lie about it."

Jake peered over at him. "I never meant to imply that you would."

Oh, for the love of God…

"Look." Jason stared him directly in the eyes. "About what you did for me at the PCPD the other day."

Jake groaned and set his empty bottle down on a nearby table. "Are you kidding me? I gave you several outs so you wouldn't feel like you had to say any of this shit. But obviously you still wanted to, so, fine. But you don't have to."

"But I-"

"Look." He arched a brow at him. "I did what I did for my own reasons. You want to thank me, fine. You're welcome. But you don't have to. And seriously – don't mention it. It's fine. I have to go."

He moved past his father and headed toward the door, glancing at Cecily and Anna who were laughing together at the counter as they teased Coleman until he actually blushed. "Ceece. Anna. If you're free, show up at Cam's later tonight. We're trying to get everyone together for dinner or something. See you later."

* * *

**.: Outside Morgan Manor, Port Charles Historical District :.**

"You think so?" Amalia nibbled on a fingernail as she listened to Morgan on the other end. "Really?"

"_Really,"_ he said, and she could hear him shuffling some papers together. _"I think you did good. Damn good. I mean, I can't believe it. The fact that she actually had a house and that it was actually still on the market…wow. It's fate, I think."_

"See, that's what I think, too," she admitted. "I mean, his father took her name – her maiden name – as his last name because she was the one family member he trusted and loved. And I think – I think that if she knew about Jake, she would have loved him with all of her heart. He would never have felt her love lacking in any way."

"_My parents have all told me a lot about Lila Quartermaine," _Morgan said softly. _"They all loved her. She was that kind of woman. I have no doubt that she'd have loved Jake without question."_

"And it's her house," Amalia breathed, looking up at the gorgeous restored historic manor. "It's her house. She owned it independently before she married Edward. Her father was into real estate and she made this house her first purchase, secretly, with her own money. It was unheard of for a woman to do that back in her day. But she bought it and she kept it even until she became a Quartermaine. Then she put it on the market and the First Port Charles Bank bought it and agreed to take care of it."

"_Amazing."_

"Just think about it," she continued, her words rushed. "Everything else in town that's connected to Lila, it's all Quartermaine stuff. All of it. And most of it is owned by Edward or Monica. _This_ is the only one that is actually a Morgan house. Morgan Manor."

"_It's fate," _Morgan told her. _"He was meant to own that house. And you were meant to find it for him."_

"Oh, stop." She rolled her eyes and looked down the street, expecting to see Jake drive up at any moment. They had agreed to meet here and he was running a little late.

"_You know it's true."_

"I believe it is fate," Amalia allowed. "That it was meant to be this way. And maybe, I don't know, I feel like, maybe, she knew. And she meant for this to happen, that she meant for this house to stay hidden until he was ready to get out on his own and he just needed a roof over his head."

"_Like she's taking care of him even though she's not here anymore, even though she never knew he existed?"_

"You're making fun of me."

"_No, I'm not," _and Amalia could hear the sincerity in his voice. _"My mom believes in stuff like that. And she said once when me and her started talking about Jake and Mike being Quartermaine cousins that Lila always wanted Jason to have children of his own. So did her son, Alan. I think that even though they both died before Jake was born, they knew he was coming. Somehow. I don't know. It's just what my mom says."_

"My mom and dad, too," she admitted. "They don't talk about Jake and the Quartermaines, specifically, but they believe in this sort of thing. Well, my dad believes in fate and romance. My mom believes in ghosts. It evens out."

Morgan was laughing on the other end. _"So is he there or what? I bet you can't wait to show him what you found."_

"…I don't want him to think that I did this on purpose." She chewed on her lower lip. "I mean, he asked me to find him a house. He told me not to tell him anything about it."

"_So?"_

"Well…he could have easily picked out a place himself. Or he could have had Moll or Chase or Penn do it, or any of the other guards. But he asked me – shut up – and he asked me not to tell him anything about its history. I think this house is perfect for him, I really do. It's far back, away from the road, it's got trees all around, a ton of privacy, a massive backyard big enough to build all sorts of bike trails and stuff like that. There's even a river that runs through the property! I think it's perfect for him. But if he gets it and later he finds out that it belonged to his great-grandmother…"

"_Oh, he'll find out."_

She blinked at the certainty in his tone. "You think so?"

"_Oh, yeah. Sooner or later, he'll find out."_

"So you think I should go with my second choice for him?"

"_No, no," _Morgan said quickly. _"This is the house for him. No doubt about it."_

"But you just said-"

"_I know."_

"Morgan…"

"_Lia, look. Don't tell him anything, like he wanted. Sooner or later, he'll come across it. He'll see it on the deed that it belonged to her a long time ago, or something like that. It'll happen."_

"And you don't think he'll be upset?"

"_I honestly don't. I think he'll like it. I think he'll like that even when he wanted to get away from everything, some part of it still stayed with him. He's heard tons about Lila from everyone – even more so now that his Grandfather has him working at ELQ. He loves her from all the stories. I think he'll be happy to own the one house that was always hers, no questions. Do it. Show him the house. Make him buy it. Don't doubt it for a second."_

"Oh! That's him, he just pulled up." She flashed a sheepish grin even though he obviously couldn't see her. "Thanks, Morgan."

"_No problem. Talk to you later."_

Amalia hung up and walked back over toward her car as Jake drove all the way down the long, winding path that led to the house. She watched him stop the car and stare up at the house as he slowly got out, and couldn't help from grinning.

Jake was still staring up at it as she trotted over.

"Well? What do you think?"

He caught her easily against his side as they walked closer to the house, examining all the turrets and fancy woodwork, open-mouthed. "This is it?"

"Mm-hm," Amalia nodded proudly, snaking an arm around his waist as they approached the steps leading up to the massive porch. "What do you think? I mean, what are you thinking, right now? This very moment?"

He didn't answer. Instead, Jake was thinking that he could not have possibly picked a better person to find him the place where he hoped to live out the rest of his days. Jake gazed up at the house, awed by its majestic exterior, then swept a gaze over the extensive grounds, taken aback by all of it. It was the perfect place for him, secluded and private, powerful, historic, and just a little gothic and forbidding. Just a little.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward as he looked down at her, seeing how her eyes sparkled happily. "What about you? Do you like it?"

Amalia could not have been more radiant. "I do. What about you?"

Jake's blue eyes twinkled. "I love it."

Author's Note: I am no longer posting my stories, including this one, at the Road to Nowhere. If you want to read them elsewhere, the only place to do so is my site. Registration is free, fast, and easy, and you can email me if you have trouble.


	54. A Real Home

**Note – **My first post-law school chapter of fic! Don't get too excited, it's not going to be a habit. First semester in law school is the worst. I fully expect to be a clinically depressed drug addict by late November. Also, I expect to have developed a hunched back. Also, I really want an 80 GB Microsoft Zune. They are so nice! And they have wireless sync capabilities!! This one is very long and I don't care to split it up.

**Mean 53**

_I always wanted a real home_

_With flowers on the windowsill._

-- "Where You Lead," Carol King

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

"Mom!"

He lunged for her as she wrestled with three large and overloaded paper bags, successfully taking two of them from her so that Elizabeth was left with the smallest one containing a container of carrot cake, apple turnovers, and two of fresh brownies.

"Jeez." Jake adjusted his grip on the bags and quickly got over the shock of his mother showing up unannounced at his brand new – and almost entirely empty – home at six-thirty in the morning. "What is all this stuff?"

She gave him an arch look that had been well preserved since his days as a troublesome child. "Food. People generally eat it."

Jake rolled his eyes and bumped his hip against the door, shutting it. "Sorry about making you wait outside with all this stuff – I didn't even realize it was the doorbell going off until the third ring. I'm gonna have that thing changed, it sounds too much like church chimes. And normally I'd have one of my guys out there to park your car and show you in and take all this, but they're doing perimeter checks, scanning for wild animals – I think the far northwest end of the property impinges on the territory of a pack of wild wolves, so that's great – and setting up cameras. Lots to do. Lots to get done…"

He was rambling as he sometimes did when he was nervous, and Elizabeth let him. He led her down the hallway to the restored kitchen that was even bigger than her master bedroom and bath put together, and set the bags of food down on the handsome marble counters. The refrigerator was new and empty save a case of beers – here she rolled her eyes – and what looked like a hastily closed carton of half-eaten Chinese food. Jake left the doors open and began to systematically put away all the food she brought.

"That one's lasagna," she said helpfully, setting her purse down on the counter and watching him crack it open to take a peek. "Mine, not from Kelly's. I made it last night and – and there was a lot left over, and I know you like it so I just put it in a container and thought I'd bring you some. Cam's getting some of it for lunch today, too, so…I hope he doesn't leave for Kelly's before I can give it to him. I should probably put it in his department fridge with a note on it, but I try to stay away from the 'Here's your lunch, love, Mommy,' bit for his sake."

This time, it was Elizabeth who rambled. Lasagna was a favorite dish at the Webber house and both Cameron and Jake would gobble down their first servings when they were kids before she even had a chance to sit down at her place at the head of the table. Last night had been the first night she'd made it after Jake left home and she'd nearly cried when she set it down on the cooling rack and realized she made way more than one person could possibly eat.

"Thanks, Mom." He barely peeked at her before he set the container in the fridge, and Elizabeth noticed that he to eat it for lunch later in the day. "You want something? I know this is all lunch and dinner stuff, and I already ate breakfast, so I don't really have anything to offer you, but…"

"No, honey, that's okay," she assured him quickly. "Robin and I were going to grab a bite at the hospital before our shifts started."

His back was toward her as he arranged the brownies and turnovers, otherwise Jake would have seen her tug on her fingers and known she was lying. It wasn't Robin she was meeting at the hospital, it was Jason. Being out in public with him still made her a little uneasy sometimes, and she could see the same in him. Today, they'd decided they'd go one step further and get a bagel and coffee – together – and then retreat to the small, seldom used courtyard by the east wing. No one ever went there, so they'd be alone while still being out in public.

She enjoyed all the time she spent with Jason, even if she felt a little awkward at times, but Elizabeth would occasionally find herself thinking back to the days of their exciting, illicit meetings at the safe house and shiver as those memories came back. How dangerous it was, how passionate, how she felt so naughty when she was driving at breakneck speeds down that country highway to be with him, how it all seemed so forbidden.

Jake finally closed the doors and turned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. He looked this way and that, not entirely sure what to do or say, and Elizabeth knew the feeling. There was such terrible distance between them now; they were farther away than they had been their entire lives. During his childhood, Jake clung to her. During his teenage years, he rebelled consistently but always sought her out if he feared he'd gotten too close to crossing the line. During his Yale days, Jake made it a priority to stay connected to her and they talked on the phone constantly, regularly. When he came back to Port Charles he lived in her house, even after he joined the business. She took his presence in her life as a constant, she took his presence for granted.

And now that she didn't have that anymore, she didn't quite know how to deal with it. And it was reassuring in a perverse way to know that Jake felt the same.

"So…this is your new place?" She waved her hand in the air. "You want to show me around?"

Jake jumped into action, kicking himself for not being the one to suggest it. "Oh. Yeah! Sure. I'll show you around. This, um, this is the kitchen, but you've already seen it. Uh…"

Flustered, he just pointed. "Fridge. Sink. Counters. Stove, oven. Um, that door leads into a back room where there are more sinks and storage room. If I want to hire a kitchen staff, then that's where they'll work."

Heat rose in his cheeks when he said that, and he quickly moved on. After all, he'd never had a kitchen staff in his life. Amalia and Spencer were the only ones among them that did. And Elizabeth certainly didn't have one; she made most of her meals after work in the small kitchen at 234 Cherry Blossom Lane, with the sunflower curtains on the windows.

Of course, she might have had a kitchen staff if she'd been Mrs. Morgan as a younger woman but she, of course, had not been.

So there was no point in thinking about that.

They moved through the house fairly quickly and he showed her the dining room, the study, the family parlor, the guest parlor, the foyer that she'd already seen when he let her in, the office, the sun room, the back porch that overlooked a veritable forest in the distance along with a lively brook, the gardens, the garages, and the first floor of the library. From there he took her up the winding staircase to the second floor, complete with beautiful windows framing the turrets that turned into cozy nooks on the inside, and the bathrooms and bedrooms and offices upstairs. He assured her there was a third floor attic for additional storage but didn't take her up there because it was dusty.

Presently, they found themselves back in the grand foyer, their voices echoing in the empty space.

"So." He tucked his hands into his pockets. "That's about it."

Elizabeth tried to smile. "How, um, how did you find this place?"

Jake's vibrant eyes lit up at the question. "Oh. Actually, Amalia found it for me. Searched for a week and found it. It was the first place she showed me and I closed the deal right there."

"Ah." The corner of her mouth curved downward so slightly that Jake didn't even notice. Of course, he wasn't looking steadily down at her, anyway; his eyes were darting this way and that as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Amalia."

"Yeah," he said, his lips stretching into a relaxed half-smile. "She just loved this place and knew it was perfect for me. Said I was born to live here."

She would say that. Elizabeth tilted her head to the side. "So, you like it, huh?"

Jake dipped his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

It took everything in her not to crinkle her nose just a little. She had kept her opinions to herself, but the house just hadn't grown on her. It was too big, too dark, like it was a giant cave she was trapped in. She would have gotten lost if Jake wasn't leading her around almost by the hand, looking and sounding as if he'd already memorized every single nook and cranny. And there were lots of nooks and crannies. It reminded her a lot of Crimson Manor, and Elizabeth had _not_ liked Crimson Manor the few times she visited her ex-friends Johnny and Nadine there.

Instead of admitting to all this, she plastered on a smile and nodded. "Good. That's great."

* * *

Cecily had dumped all of her stuff at her offices and then, deciding she didn't much feel like wrestling with the drape of a silk original that was giving her fits, drove over to tackle one of the other assignments she'd taken on. She was now moving quickly atop four-inch high Oxford heels, practically marching down the hallways, looking this way and that with a stern frown as he followed her, and constantly scribbling notes in her sketchpad.

Jake clasped his hands behind his back and looked around, admittedly a little nervous. "Well? What do you think? Will you do it?"

"I'll do it," Cecily affirmed after a long pause. "I can and will decorate this place if it kills me."

"Well, hopefully, it won't come to that," he laughed, looking around. "It shouldn't be that hard…right?"

"It won't be," she assured him with a smile. "You've got some great spaces here to work with, and so many rooms with so many purposes, each with a different _feel_. And you've given me a huge budget for it, too, so it'll work out just fine. Plus…"

She wagged her pen at him. "I know your taste. This place will look rich, masculine, subdued, elegant, a little on the darker side…"

"Actually…" He tugged on his ear, an unconscious mannerism he'd picked up during his childhood. "I was thinking of something a little…different."

Cecily tilted her head to the side, frowning just a little. "Different, how?"

Jake looked around helplessly. He wasn't good at this sort of thing and didn't really know how to explain it. And after all, _she_ was the designer, not him. "I don't know. A little more…open? A little lighter? Warmer? Is that the word? I don't know. A little more…make it look like a home. Like people could actually live here one day."

A strange light was growing and gleaming in her pale blue eyes, and Cecily managed to contain a smirk, instead slowly nodding. "More like a home."

Jake bit his lip. "Yeah."

Her smile grew until she was positively beaming. "I can do that."

* * *

Spencer leaned against the frame of the window in the turret and looked out over the town. Jake paced the open attic with its cavernous ceiling, sharply sloping down on them, looking this way and that. He appeared relaxed and pleased with himself, as evidence by his loose, easy gait and the casual instead of defensive way he had his hands in his pockets.

"Well?" He turned expectantly toward his old friend. "You've seen the whole place, and this is the last of it. What do you think?"

Spencer turned, offering him his profile and the ghost of a smile. "…I really like it. But for reasons you might not appreciate."

Jake scoffed at that and wandered over to join him in the surprisingly spacious alcove created by the turret. "Oh, yeah? Try me."

The Prince's smile remained enigmatic as the two men once again looked out over the town. "It reminds me very much of Wyndemere Castle. Except land-locked," he allowed with a smile.

Jake grinned. "Yeah, I can see how you might make the comparison."

"It doesn't offend you?"

This time, he was genuinely confused. "Why would it?"

Spencer shrugged awkwardly. "The connotations of the Cassidine name…Spoon Island is seen to be kind of a blight on the Port Charles landscape. Father tells me that when I was a child of about four or five, after the Black and White Ball that killed his fiancé, your aunt, the people of the town thought that he was responsible for her murder. There was a petition that reached the town council to remove Spoon Island from the Port Charles zip code."

Jake snorted. "People are ass-heads. Especially in this town."

The older man rolled his shoulders, neither affirming the statement nor denying it. "The Cassidines are a dark, powerful, ruthless family. My forefathers have blood on their hands for generations upon generations, tracing back. So do I, for that matter. And Spoon Island is the seat of our power, Wyndemere Castle our headquarters of operation. Most do not take any comparison favorably."

He shook his head. "Spence, the Cassidines probably are all that you say they are, but the Quartermaines aren't that much better. You know I'm the last person that will ever hassle you about who or where you came from."

That earned him a rueful smile. "Yes, that's true enough, I suppose. CeeCee – uh – CeeCee mentioned that you wanted this place to have a different feeling to it, that you wanted it to be more like a home."

Jake didn't meet his gaze. "Yeah."

"My decorator suggested the same thing when Wyndemere Castle and Spoon Island were handed over to me. I took her up on it, but only for certain rooms in two wings of the house. Those are brighter, warmer, more open, suitable for family and friends and any children Laur and I might have. The rest of the house remains as it ever was: dark, forbidding, sullen in atmosphere. I was loathe to change it, almost. I can't explain why, but I was."

He shrugged again. "Maybe men like me and you – maybe we cling to that sometimes. Maybe we embrace the idea that our surroundings and the décor contribute to the _image_ of our power, if not our power or even the illusion of it. Wyndemere Castle is still very much designed to intimidate, and this house as it is right now…it feels that way, too. I know you plan on changing that, and I didn't mean any offense in the comparison."

"None taken," Jake replied lightly, sincerely. "I know you, Spence. There's very little you could say to me that would actually offend me."

Spencer's sober brown eyes gazed out over the town, and he folded his arms over his chest. "Look at that. Another way it's like Wyndemere: you can see almost the whole town."

Jake nodded proudly. "Yeah. It's a tremendous view from up here."

The Prince's lips curved upward, and Jake shared the smile when they looked at each other. "It almost feels like you're ruling it from above, doesn't it?"

* * *

Morgan arched a brow at his best friend as he walked into the master bedroom, dropping a large cardboard box to the floor with a clatter.

"Now that you've got your own place, you think you can stop leaving all your shit at mine?"

Jake smiled and jerked his head toward the far wall. "Kick it over there by the closet, would you?"

Morgan did as he was asked and then joined Jake in the middle of the empty room. "When's your furniture getting here?"

"CeeCee's on it. She's going to have everything shipped as soon as possible. She's already got a couple pieces picked out – some sofas for downstairs, the master bed, I think, random stuff – and it's coming over tonight and tomorrow."

"Where are you staying tonight? Cam's?"

Jake shrugged. "Not sure. I don't really want to. I've stayed with him long enough. My brother needs to get back to his own life. What kind of doctor has a mobster camped out in his guest bedroom, anyway?"

Morgan laughed at that. "You know he doesn't mind. He likes having you around. Told Moll that it reminded him of when you guys were younger, before he moved away for school."

A small, soft smile played upon his lips. "Yeah. Yeah, it does feel like that. Our bedrooms were side by side then, too. But still, Morgan. I can't keep messing up his life and his routine. I can't keep having my men and my associates drop by at his apartment at all hours of the day and night, I can't keep working with Moll there while he's around. It's not fair to him. He never says anything about it, but it's not fair to him. I don't think I'm going back tonight. I already brought over most of my stuff, there's just a little left there."

"Where are you planning on staying?" Morgan watched him with keen brown eyes. "Is tonight it?"

"I think so," Jake finally said. "I think I'm going to stay here. If the couch comes, I'm set. I'll just sleep on it until CeeCee gets all my stuff picked out and set up. It'll be fine. I've slept on couches before."

His best friend let out a bark of laughter. "Not for about a decade, rich boy."

Jake slid him an amused but rueful look. "It's no big deal. I'll be fine. Besides, it's not like I'm afraid of the dark."

Morgan didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes made Jake uncomfortable so he jerked his head toward the door and headed for it. "Come on, you hungry? Have lunch with me."

"Okay. You wanna order out?"

"Nah," he said as they filed into the hall. "Mom made lasagna for me."

* * *

Jake glanced at his watch and frowned. Anna had called and said she wanted to come over before her office hours to check his new place out, and also that she was bringing him a plant. She was supposed to have arrived fifteen minutes ago, but there was no sign of her. The youngest Drake was quite punctual and had no choice but to adhere to a strict schedule ever since she started teaching at PCU, so this was unusual for her.

Maybe she forgot, or maybe she decided she'd come by after her last class. Jake checked his phone just to see if he'd missed a call. He had an informal meeting with Chase, Penn, and a couple of the other guards that would be working 24/7 security on the premises in about an hour, and he didn't want her showing up in the middle of it. Ever since he started helping Morgan run their fathers' business, Jake had been almost fanatical in his quest to keep his business separate and away from his family and friends.

He pulled a beer out of the fridge and sat down at the counter to drink it. After about five minutes of alternately sipping and drumming his fingers, Jake found himself once again entirely impatient and got up to take a look around.

Before long, he had wound his way to the foyer and thought to step out onto the porch for some air. Jake opened the door, made sure it was unlocked, and walked out into the sunshine. He'd barely made it two steps before he saw someone rather unexpected – in an expected way – on his front lawn.

Anna Drake, dressed in the pencil skirt and silk blouse she wore to class that day, was sitting on the grass with her patent leather pumps kicked off, scribbling and sketching in her notebook. Next to her sat a pitifully small spider plant, whose leaves waved merrily in the breeze. She'd look up periodically at the house and grinned widely when she saw him.

"Jake!"

He laughed despite himself and trotted down the steps, walking across the grass to where she was. With nothing better to do, Jake hiked up his pants a little and dropped down next to her, sitting cross-legged.

"What are you doing?"

"I came to visit you," she said, as if it was the most obvious and natural thing in the world. "I brought you a plant like I said I would. See?"

He barely glanced at the thing and instead peered down at her notebook. "What's that?"

Anna lifted it up and showed it to him proudly. "I'm sketching your house. Just a crude drawing or two. Oh, and I added an extra turret there."

"Why?"

"Because I thought it would look pretty."

"No, I mean-" Jake chuckled and rubbed a hand over his mouth. "What are you sketching it for?"

"Oh." She set her pad down in her lap. "It's so beautiful – it's just perfect for the character in my new book. I call him the Beast of Roman Falls."

Jake blinked. "The Beast?"

Anna smirked. "Well, his real name is Deacon. Deacon Morriss. But he's the lonely, surly, tortured Beast of Roman Falls."

He wrinkled his nose. "I don't think I like the sound of that."

She laughed and played with her pencil. "He's a very misunderstood man, lives all alone in his beautiful house, and keeps to himself. He's very ambitious, very wealthy, and just ruthless. I'm doing research right now to work in a realistic substance abuse problem – it should come together pretty well. I haven't told my agent about it yet – so far, it's our little secret."

Jake arched a brow at her. "This based on anyone I know?"

Anna groaned, but it was clear that they were just teasing each other. "Let's hope not."

* * *

The doorbell rang and Jake quickly made his way out of his almost bare office, grumbling to himself. His men were all busy with other things and he was stuck running to the door every five minutes to take care of the dozens upon dozens of people that kept dropping in on official business.

He grabbed the knob and yanked the door open, only to stop and stare at his grandfather. Edward Quartermaine, dressed in a pale grey suit with his red tie and ever-present gold pocket watch, stood in his doorway with a faint smile on his lips.

Jake blinked. "Uh…Grandfather."

The corners of his eyes crinkled. "Jake."

He moved away from the door. "Come on in."

"Thank you, my boy, but I'm afraid I can't," the old man demurred. He gestured to the car in the driveway. "My driver is waiting. I'm expected at an old colleague's home further upstate. I've been invited for the weekend but couldn't leave without coming to see you."

Edward looked around, still not making any move to hand over the large white box he held. "This is to be your new home, mm?"

Jake dipped his head. "Yup."

"I like it," Edward announced. "It suits you."

The corner of his mouth curved up. "Yes, I think so, too."

"You're having furniture delivered, I take it?"

"Yeah, should be here by the end of the week, all of it."

"Beds, sofas, bookcases, all that?"

Jake nodded and tried not to smile. "Yes, all that."

"Ah. Very good, then." Edward held out the box, pressing it to Jake's choice and leaving him with no choice but to hold on to it. "I brought this for you. For your home."

Jake held the box close and just looked at the old man. "…How did you know? How did you know that I was moving, that I was moving _here_, how did you know any of it?"

Edward smiled gently. "Come, come, now, child. I always have my eye on you. I always know what you're doing, when you're doing it."

"Grandfather…"

"Oh, very well." He rolled his eyes, looking put out. "The chairman of the town's historic society is an old friend of mine. When the deal went through and the check cleared, he passed it on that you were moving into the neighborhood."

Jake smiled at that, and Edward gruffly cleared his throat. "Well, go on, open it."

Still smirking, Jake braced a hand under the box and opened it with the other, carefully pulling the flaps apart and back. Inside, he found two large camel-colored pillows with beautiful flowery embroidery.

"What is this?"

"Pillows," Edward replied matter-of-factly, though his voice was soft and rough. "Your great-grandmother Lila made them for the couch in my office when we first started ELQ together. I had purchased the building on my own, my first real purchase as an independent businessman, and she made those for the couch I sometimes slept on when I had too much work to do. I only thought…"

He rolled his shoulders and they jerked under the fine fabric of his suit jacket. "I only thought that now that you had moved into your own home, the seat of your operations, that you might…that you might find some use for them."

Jake smiled and closed the box. Truly, there was no gift more poignant or meaningful than the cushions Lila made on the day that Jake moved into her house. "I'll put them on the couch for my office as soon as it arrives. Thank you, Grandfather."

* * *

They were sitting on the back porch, a container of Kelly's macaroni and cheese and two forks between them, drinking beer. The ledge was very wide so instead of sitting on the steps leading out to the extensive lawns, they just sat on that, one leg on either side of it.

Cameron took a sip from his bottle and looked up at the sky, which was streaked with brilliant shades of purple and pink as the sun finished its declivitous journey through the skies.

"So do you feel settled now, at least? Kind of?"

"Kind of," Jake agreed, sprinkling more salt and pepper over the macaroni. "I mean…I think I'm happy. With all this. I like the house a lot. I feel like everything's going to work out, that everything will be fine. Is that settled?"

"I think so," his brother allowed. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're doing this. I think it'll be good for you. And, uh, good for Mom, too."

Jake frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" He looked away uneasily. "You're not living with her any longer. Everyone knows it. You're not having some of your mail delivered there, your men aren't calling you there or meeting you there if an emergency comes up. She – she's not in danger anymore."

He bristled at that and scowled menacingly. "She was never in any danger to begin with – I made sure she had protection around the clock-"

Cameron wasn't backing down. "You know what I mean. The house is – the house is finally hers again. Just hers. And this one's yours to do with what you want to. You'll do your business here, you'll meet with your men and your associates here, all of it. It's yours."

They sat in silence for a long moment before Jake peeked up at him.

"You wanna know something?"

"What?"

"This house, it belonged to my great-grandmother."

Cameron choked on his beer. "Lila? Lila Quartermaine? Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

Cameron turned and looked at the house, then turned to Jake in amazement. "How'd you – but then Amalia – and the house-?"

Jake played with the bottle he held. "Amalia found this place for me. When she showed it to me the first time, she…I don't know. She was ecstatic. She _really_ wanted me to live here. And I had no idea why. I just wanted to know why she loved it so much. I didn't care about finding out who owned the house or anything, when it was built, nothing. I just wanted to know what it was that made her love it. So, I, uh, I made some calls, had one of my men dig into town records and…"

He shrugged. "He came back and told me that this house was purchased by Lila Morgan and that it left her hands before she became Lila Quartermaine. This is…Morgan Manor."

Cameron grinned slowly. "Morgan Manor. I like that."

"Me, too," Jake admitted.

"And you don't mind that Amalia found all this and kept it quiet?"

"Why would I? I asked her to."

"You gonna tell her you know?"

Again, Jake was confused. "Why? It's not important."

Cameron shrugged and chewed another mouthful of macaroni, talking around it. "Can I ask you something? Do you, uh, do you feel any connection to that side of your family, really? Do you think of yourself as a Quartermaine, if not a Morgan?"

He pointedly ignored the second part of the question. "Do I feel a connection with them? With Lila, you mean? Well…yeah. Mostly because of Grandfather, really."

"Yeah?"

"At first, I just thought…" Jake scratched his head. "Well, I thought I'd use Grandfather for his name and his holdings and connections, just like he's kind of using me just to be closer to Jason, to pass on the Quartermaine legacy, all that. Grandfather helps me keep up my legitimate front, whether he means to or not. I'd heard all over town how Grandfather was this – was this heartless bastard that was always out for number one, and I guess I figured that expecting any other kind of relationship with him – a relationship based on kindness and love and all that – was kind of pointless."

"Because you didn't think Edward was interested in pursuing that either?"

"Kind of. But I'm really starting to see now how much Grandfather cares about his family, even though he says that he hates most of them, even though he knows most of them hate him. Amazingly, Grandfather's idea of family includes…me. You know, he'll tell me all about Lila and Alan and even Jason when he was a boy, before he remembers himself and changes the subject. He makes me feel like I'm part of all that, like I've always been a part of the family and it was just an accident that I never got to know any of that stuff before now."

Edward had very slowly been rising in Cameron's esteem as Jake spoke, and the oldest Webber boy found himself almost grateful to the old man for giving Jake that feeling of acceptance and inclusion. Elizabeth instilled in them a sense of Webber pride since they were children, despite the fact that they had very limited contact with that side of their family, but Cameron felt it was important for Jake to really feel his Quartermaine heritage as well.

"I never realized that I would value that kind of connection with my grandfather as much as I do," Jake admitted quietly.

Cameron smiled softly. "Well, you never know. This might be the start of something new. A new chapter in your life. You're really striking out on your own, you're wiping your slate clean and standing on your own two feet."

"A lot of clichés to loop so close together."

"Shut up. What I mean is, you can only build from here. You can rise above a lot of stuff that's been weighing down on you – you're finally in a place where you're a little more removed, maybe a little more objective. What do you think? You don't have to shut people out like you sometimes do because you've supplied the distance yourself. Remember how I used to joke around and say that I loved you more when I was away at Johns Hopkins because there was some distance between us and you weren't on my back all day, every day? Kind of like that."

"You're talking about Mom."

"I'm talking about a lot of things."

Jake sighed heavily and scratched his fork against the container. "I don't want to shut Mom out. But it's easier to do that than it is to do anything else. I just – I can't do it. I can't do it right now."

He was pinching the bridge of his nose and starting to look agitated, and Cameron knew better than to delve deeper into that issue. Jake would make up with Elizabeth when he was ready and not a moment before, so no one's thoughts on it mattered one bit.

"Cam, you know me." Jake went back to scratching at the container. "I can't – I can't talk about what I'm feeling more than half the time. I can't do it." He let out a humorless chuckle. "I don't know how Amalia has the patience for me. She…She really could do better. A whole lot better that what she's stuck with."

Cameron allowed him a teasing, slightly exasperated smile. "I doubt she'd say she was _stuck_ with you."

"I've never told her whether or not I love her." Jake lifted sober blue eyes to his brother's brown ones. "Did I ever tell you that?"

Fortunately, he hadn't swallowed his current mouthful otherwise he would have choked on it as he carefully measured his response. "…No, you hadn't."

He swallowed and washed it down with a sip of beer, buying himself some time to think. "But Mal would probably say that a lot of that comes from your relationship, or lack thereof, with Jason. Who knows?" He peeked at him hopefully. "Maybe that can change now, too."

His brother looked away. "I don't know about that."

They sat in silence until he was comfortable speaking again. "All my life, I always felt that…that Jason should be with _me_. That I had more of a right to him than anyone else in the world. Ever. That if he wasn't with me, he shouldn't be with anyone ever. I got a bit older, then, and even when I started hating him, I still felt that way."

Cameron chewed quietly, knowing that this confession had been a long time coming and that Jake needed to get it out. And now that he finally seemed like he'd be able to, he'd run into no resistance.

"It was…" He jabbed at the container with his fork, leaving holes. "…Possessive and proprietary and jealous behavior, but I couldn't help it. It seemed like the most natural, true axiom in the world. In…In a really twisted, awful way, it helped a little that Jason wasn't with Mom or you, either. Mainly Mom, though. He stayed away from her. It wasn't like he was still using her for – for sex or love or whatever, whatever in between, and just leaving me alone because he didn't want to accept responsibility for me. It wasn't like he got to be with the person he wanted to be with – her – and leave you and me out in the cold. He stayed away from all of us, and that helped a little. Because I wasn't alone in not having him."

"You wanted me to have him, too?"

Jake balked at Cameron's incredulous question. "Of course I wanted you to have him. I wanted you to have a father. I didn't want you feeling any more like you were the man of the house because you had to be. I didn't want you feeling any more that you had to take responsibility for all the shit I got myself into just because you were the older boy. I wanted you to have Jason, too, Cam, if you wanted him."

He shook his head and stared at the food between them. "I guess…I guess that constant feeling of wanting something that was…unattainable, completely unattainable and…away from me, and being constantly denied that with practically every breath, every moment of my existence since I was a kid and found out about it, it changed me in a big way."

That was the understatement of a lifetime, but Cameron was too smart to point that out.

"Now? I don't even think twice." Jake had yet to look up at him. "If I want something, I feel entitled to it whether I am or not. Just because I wasn't entitled to having Jason in my life before, when I actually needed him, I feel in this perverse way that that negation, that lack, now entitles me in the present to whatever I want."

His words were filled with self-loathing and derision, and Cameron couldn't stand the sound of them.

"But that sense of entitlement, even when it's unfounded half the time in terms of legality, is what got you to where you are today," he pointed out gently, trying to find the silver lining for his little brother. It was something he'd become quite good at since they were children. "It's what keeps you going, it's what drives you, and that's what's kept you safe all these years, because you feel like there's so much you still need to have, so much you still need to get your hands on that you can't allow yourself to make foolish mistakes with your life or be picked off. You're careful with your life and your money and your assets and your associates because of that sense of entitlement."

Jake was shaking his head slowly, remorsefully, and let out a heavy sigh. "…I don't think I'll be able to stop."

Cameron looked down at the empty container between them, and when he spoke his voice was grave. "We are routinely surprised by what we can do when we really have a reason to. And, Jake, you have so many reasons. For everything."

They sat in silence after that until the steady sound of footsteps growing closer and closer got their attention, and Cameron and Jake looked up to see Molly coming down the hallway to the back porch. She had her laptop under her arm and smiled hesitantly at them, sensing that she had perhaps walked in on a very serious conversation.

"Hi."

Cameron and Jake both smiled and stood, leaving their beer bottles on the ledge. Cameron, knowing that there was business to be done, kissed his girlfriend, bid his brother goodbye, and excused himself. Jake and Molly walked him out, then took a seat on the front steps as they watched his car drive down the long, winding driveway until one of the guards opened the iron-wrought gates and let him out onto the street. Jake had flipped on the porch light system, which consisted of a row of old-style lanterns with electric bulbs all along the front of the house, so that they could actually see in the waning light.

"I'm done."

Jake turned a little so he was facing her, and Molly opened up her laptop and woke it from hibernation. "Yeah?"

"Got the whole list right here," she said proudly. "And I even added your new house to the list. This is the complete, updated to-the-minute list of all the properties you and Morgan own, including all of the old safe houses. I already put together all the values for the properties and a bunch of other specs. From this list, you can go down and decide immediately which ones you need to keep, which ones you need to sell, and which ones you need to inspect first."

"Did you separate all of the old safe houses out like I asked?"

She nodded and clicked another application. "Put them in a separate bank as well so it's easier to pull up. Here are the names, the addresses, the specs, any additional notes about things like neighbors, recent construction in the area, back taxes, anything like that. Oh, and here's how much they're worth. You want to start with these first?"

He nodded. "I figure it'll be the easiest. I've never even heard of half of these before, and they're all within a seventy-five mile radius. We'll stop through as many as we can and get more information, then I'll figure out which ones go on the market."

"Excellent." Molly opened up her digital planner. "Let's find a day that works for us. You, me, Morgan, Chase and Penn, right?"

"And the clean-up crew."

"And the clean-up crew." She pulled up their schedules and looked for a good block of time. "Here we go, we can actually do it next week. I'll set it all up for you and make sure everything's in place."

"Thanks, Moll. I really appreciate it."

* * *

The sun had finally set and dusk descended when the doorbell rang, and Jake hurried over to open it. His desk for his office had just arrived, as had a few end tables that Cecily had selected, but the rest of it had been delayed so he was currently without a couch or bed upon which to sleep. It wasn't that big a deal; he had a comforter and some blankets that Cameron brought over from his apartment and figured those would do just fine.

He trotted into the foyer and up the steps leading to the front door, and Jake grinned instantly when he saw who was on the other side. Amalia, dressed in her signature white, leaned against the doorjamb. Her lacy frock lapped two inches above her knee, swaying gently in the breeze, and her wavy locks were pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. She flashed him an easy smile and he saw that she held a sleeping bag, the fuzzy green blanket they'd brought on their camping trip, and a bottle of his favorite champagne.

She grinned when he looped an arm around her waist to pull her into his home and let him take the blanket and bag. "I figured that since you probably didn't have all your furniture yet, we could set up camp in the back yard."

Jake pretended to consider this as he clamped the sleeping bag and blanket under his arm, letting her keep the champagne, and backed her up against the door. His lips flirted with hers, brushing over them teasingly, and she could feel him smirk against her mouth.

"The weather might not hold up," he murmured, pressing his tall, sturdy frame into her soft, lush body. "There might be rain later. I think we'd be better off staying in…and maybe christen my new place."

She laughed and looped her arms around his neck, bottle and all, and Jake kissed her soundly. Amalia moaned softly and held him close, and Jake only pulled back when he absolutely had to take a breath. He knelt suddenly, surprising her, and looped an arm under her knees, picking her up so that she was securely in his arms, looking down at him with her arms still around his neck.

It was too romantic a gesture for a man like Jake Webber, and Amalia just gazed down at him. She pressed the pad of her thumb to the very center of his full bottom lip. Jake kissed it and pulled it into his mouth without breaking her gaze, and Amalia's eyes darkened. With a wicked look, he arched a brow superciliously and turned on his heel, marching into his office, the new seat of the Morgan organization.

She chuckled and rested her forehead against his temple. "I take it you still love the house."

He smiled and turned his face towards her until their noses bumped. "This time, it's _my _turn to give you a tour."

* * *

At long last, they found their way up to the master bedroom. Amalia was exhausted and nodded off to sleep not long after he wrapped his arms – tightly – around her waist and snuggled up behind her in their sleeping bag. Jake wasn't in that great shape himself and actually managed to sleep for about five hours straight, which was virtually unheard of for him.

When he finally did wake up, he wasn't surprised to see that Amalia was still sleeping. He brushed her hair back and away from her face, letting his fingers tickle their way over her shoulders, neck, and cheek, and was rewarded with her sleepy, humming sigh.

Unable to resist, he leaned down and nipped at the shell of her ear, grinning when she let out a little purr and curled into herself. Careful not to wake her, Jake slipped his arms out from around her and managed to crawl out of the sleeping bag. He found his boxers and dug out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the bag he'd brought over from Cam's.

Dressed, he quietly left the room and headed downstairs to get something to eat. He'd slept a lot and probably wouldn't be able to sleep again for the next twenty-four hours. That was just how his body worked. So, with that in mind, he figured he might as well get some work done.

It was six o'clock in the morning – he'd slept in – and the day had already begun. Some more furniture, including his bed, would arrive at nine o'clock, and he was expecting Cecily to come by again later. She'd stopped by the day before again in the afternoon and ended up joining him and Morgan for lunch, then walked around with her digital camera and took pictures of the place to make sure she had reference shots for her design plans. She knew enough to delete the pictures and her Recycle Bin when she was done; Jake didn't want any inner pictures of his home out there for someone to get their hands on them.

Cecily was working as hard as she could to get as much furniture picked out as quickly as she could and figured she could fine-tune the rest of the décor after that, and Jake appreciated her efforts more than he could say. She had even promised not to let her mother get wind of her latest project, since they all remembered Carly decorating Morgan and Jake's dorm room at Yale during their first year rooming together. She loaded the common room with so many things – plasma television, high-tech stereo, docks for their computers and iPods, everything – that everyone else on the floor did their best to hang out in the suite, and Morgan and Jake had a hell of a time keeping them out.

She'd also purchased a bunch of dry straw and stuck it in vases, which Morgan and Jake didn't quite understand. They ended up handing all those vases over to the girls that lived next door and only took them back when they knew Carly would come to visit.

He'd authorized Chase to sign for the stuff, just in case he was busy when it came, and the guard in question was coming out of his office as Jake wound his way out of the hall.

"Morning." He was checking his phone for updates from the warehouse. "You got a package, so I put it in your office. Then I got rid of all that plastic shit from your desk. You're welcome, by the way."

Jake smiled. "Package, huh? From who?"

"Jason," came the matter-of-fact answer, and Chase didn't let the stunned look on Jake's face faze him. "He came by earlier. Figured you and Amalia, uh, didn't need to be disturbed. I have to head to the warehouse, but I'll be back before the furniture comes in."

"Thanks, man." He was already looking in the direction of his office as he clapped Chase on the back. "See you later."

The guard stepped out onto the front porch, whistling, and within a couple minutes had pulled out of the manor. Jake was left standing in his office, looking across the room at the large white box sitting on his desk. Finally, he walked across the hardwood floors, barefoot, and rounded the corner. He stared down at the box for a long moment before he finally lifted the lid gingerly.

He set it down on the desk as the sun's rays grew stronger and reached inside, pulling out a large globe of the Earth set in a polished wooden stand. Jake brushed the box aside, letting it fall to the floor, and set the globe down in the center of the desk.

He stared at it for a long moment and then finally reached for the note that was taped to Brazil. He peeled it off and unfolded it to find his father's writing.

_If you ever lose your way, you can always come find me. JM._

Jake must have read the note twenty times before he realized what he was doing and finally set it down and stared at the present. It was shiny and textured with letters and markings all over it, and he ran his fingertip lightly over the Pyrenees mountains. Abruptly, he pulled his finger back and gave the globe a swat, causing it to spin at a restless speed. He watched the colors run and bleed together and then stuck out his finger to mark the spot, causing it to come to a dead halt.

His finger landed on Uzbekistan.

A dark mark there made him take notice and lean closer, and Jake squinted at it. When he realized what it was, he spun the globe again, slowly this time, and found a number of marks like it but of other things, sprinkled across different countries. There was a giraffe drawn on the Serengeti plain, a gondola with oar drawn on Italy, a cup of steaming coffee not unlike the drawings that his mother used to doodle on scraps of paper and post-its, drawn on New England, closer to where he imagined New York would be, and several others. But the mark he found on Uzbekistan still puzzled him and Jake pulled back and frowned, wondering why on earth she or Jason had drawn a little umbrella there.


	55. Lost Cause

**Note –** After a hiatus of sorts, we are back. Is that a good thing or bad?

**Mean 54**

_I'm tired of fighting,_

_I'm tired of fighting,_

_Fighting for a lost cause._

-- "Lost Cause," Beck

**.: Outside a Safe House :.**

"This is bullshit," Morgan was saying as they drove up to a large house set far back from the road. He had the surveyor's map spread out across his lap as Jake drove with Molly in the passenger seat, Chase and Penn following in another car, and was studying the boundary linings and periodically looking up to squint at the adjoining lot. "Take a look at this, this is fucking bullshit."

"What's bullshit?" Molly asked politely as Jake parked and waited for his guards to pull in. She had her laptop open and was looking over the specs of the eighth safe house they'd seen that day. "Don't leave us in suspense."

Morgan folded up the map and hopped out of the SUV, spreading the surveyor's report out on the hood as Chase and Penn ambled up. He pointed to the neighboring lot that consisted of a large storage shack that effectively blocked the safe house from being seen from the road until the driver had already passed it.

"Look at that. Now look at this." He pointed to the boundary line. "That...that..._thing _isn't supposed to be there. It's on our property, an encroachment of, I'd say, easily thirty yards."

Jake studied the large barn-like structure. "Really? That much? Let me see that."

Morgan ran a finger down the property line again to illustrate his point. "That's where our land ends. That's where theirs begins. That's where the tool shed is marked as being, and that's the tool shed over there. That thing is between the line and the shed and has to be at least half on our land."

"The specs here don't say anything about a barn," Molly murmured, rereading the report she'd pulled up on the property. She scrolled down, then up, and back down again with a simple swipe of her fingertip. "Nope. Doesn't say anything about a barn here. Makes mention of the tool shed, though."

"When was the last time this property was surveyed by our men?" her cousin wanted to know.

"Says here...late 2007. I've got Jason and Max's signatures, and your dad's signed here at the bottom."

"That's what I thought," Morgan grumbled, crumpling the map up and handing it to Chase. "Forget it."

"What?" Jake asked, following his best friend up the walkway to the house with the others in tow. "What's that supposed to mean? Should we get them to demolish the barn or move it if we keep this place?"

"We can forget it," he said, testing the steps and finding them sound before he dared to climb up to the porch. Jake and Molly followed suit, while Chase and Penn organized tasks between the three junior guards that had accompanied them. "The statute of limitations is ten years in this state. The land is theirs."

Jake wasn't following. "But it's _ours_. We've got the title right here, it's in our name-"

"And since our fathers didn't bother checking on this property for more than twenty years, whoever owns that lot is able to make a claim of adverse possession. The title's quieted." Morgan was only half interested in his explanation as he searched through a mass ring of keys for the one to unlock Lot 08, as they were calling this particular safe house.

"We're punished because our fathers were sleeping owners that didn't bother to check on their land every ten years, and the part of the land that our neighbors over there built on is theirs. Ah, got it." He jammed the key in the lock and turned, throwing his shoulder against it to loosen it when it stuck, and walked in. Jake held the door for Molly and, after making sure Chase and Penn were handling their duties, followed.

"So, really, we might as well get rid of the place."

Morgan considered this as he looked around the main room that consisted of a sofa set and a large fire place. "No, not really, that's not the argument being made. We just lost that part of the property, not the whole thing, so if you want to keep it we can keep it, no problem. And it's good that we're doing this. And, hey, I consider it pretty good luck that we've checked out eight plots so far and only found _one_ deseisor. Good for us. If only our fathers had been more diligent owners...what the hell is this?"

Molly leaned closer, looking over his shoulder as Morgan unrolled a scroll that he found sitting on the mantle. A faded blue ribbon hung from his fingers as he straightened it, and her lips parted in surprise. She stared at the drawing and then looked up, staring now at Jake.

"...It's you."

"What?" He stalked forward and reached for the paper. "You're shitting me, there's no way..."

But it was. There, in his hands, as real as could be, was a charcoal drawing of himself as a child. And if he had been tempted to argue with the infantile likeness, _Jake Morgan_ was written right under the chubby little feet pulled together as he sat, dispelling all doubt.

Jake Morgan.

It was the first time he'd seen his name like that.

Jake _Morgan_.

It was the name he should have had and there it was, staring up at him from the crinkled, aged piece of paper, almost as if it was mocking him. The child in the drawing – no, he was still having a hard time understanding it to be himself – what was his expression? Was he happy? Was he sad? Was he angry? Sick? Lonely? Wistful? Sleepy?

No, Jake couldn't tell. The child's face held no emotion for him. He knew it to be drawn by his mother's hand, knew that there had to be _something_ there because Elizabeth, as an emotional person, infused all of her creations with that same sense of emotion, but he saw nothing. Just a child in footsie-pajamas, holding a balloon.

Fuck.

His hands shook as he continued to stare down at the drawing. "Wh-Where did you find this?"

Morgan and Molly exchanged apprehensive looks. They both knew that this was bad, but had yet to figure out just _how_ bad. "Right – Right here, above the fireplace. Jake-"

The paper crinkled when he made a fist, and Jake moved forward to quickly scan the mantel. An arrangement of artificial flowers, a decorative plate of some sort, and a blank postcard bearing a picture of a ship.

Nothing.

Jake wasn't even aware that his hand still trembled as he fisted the drawing, and he spun around on his heel and looked around the room with new eyes. This wasn't just another safe house. Now that this had turned up, he felt it was something more, he felt that there had to be other things here, other things of _his_, other things _of him_, things that were sitting here all together, in all the rooms, sitting for days and weeks and years for other people to be aware of but not him, things that lived in this forgotten safe house, this house that was _alive_ with _him_, things that denoted the most personal, innermost part of him, parts of him that he didn't even allow himself to access, and that was unacceptable.

"Jake, shit, man, hold up-"

A wild gleam flickered through his eyes as he pushed past Morgan, spying a box on the end table. Molly jumped back as he snatched it up and opened it, but there was nothing inside. He swore and dropped it on the sofa, having already forgotten about it as he moved around the room.

There were two coats in the closet.

Molly covered her mouth with her hand when Jake pulled out a red and yellow plaid pea coat and then a worn, soft leather jacket. He held the jacket in his hands, staring at it in complete bewilderment and even a small measure of devastation, before his jaw squared and his eyes steeled, and he was tossing the coats onto the couch as if they burned him to touch.

A storage ottoman sat by a camel-colored armchair, and Jake moved towards it. The main compartment held nothing but an old throw blanket, but the side racks opened out and Morgan cringed when Jake tossed two medical journals, dog-eared and annotated, onto the coffee table.

He didn't stop, kept moving as if it didn't matter, but of course, it did.

A large bookshelf sat in the corner, its wooden panes pulled down to protect the contents from dust and light. Jake flung them back one by one in rapid succession, and with a single sweep of his arm let about eight travel books fall to the floor.

Molly gasped when she saw the look on his face when he turned and took a step back. Jake was already heading into the kitchen. They heard cupboards and drawers open and shut, and Morgan and Molly both winced with almost comic alacrity when they heard the shattering of glass. Jake must have found something he didn't like...like dishes in the dishwasher or something else that would suggest that people actually lived here.

He stormed out of the kitchen and blew right past them so fast that Molly actually lost her balance and stumbled a little into her cousin. She shot him a nervous look and Morgan steadied her before moving past her. Together, they followed Jake as he thundered up the steps, hoping there was nothing else for him to discover upstairs but knowing it wouldn't be likely.

A razor and shaving cream – blue and pink cans – were on prominent display in the bathroom. A mauve loofah hung from the shower faucet. A neon green bar of Irish Spring soap with old bubbles dried up into white, crusty flakes sat in the dish by the sink. Jake kicked the cabinet that held an extra roll of toilet paper, Drano, and a stash of new toothbrushes and left.

The guest bedroom should have at least been neutral territory, as far as Morgan was concerned, but he was corrected when two framed sketches flew out of it, narrowly missing his head, and crashed into the opposite wall. A drawing of the Port Charles skyline and a view looking up at Vista Point, both with _Elizabeth Webber _neatly scrawled in the bottom right corner.

The master bedroom was next, and Molly fought off the urge to just leave right then and there. She didn't want to know what Jake would find in that room.

The bed was made, but hastily, easily suggesting occupants that had used it often enough. There were clothes in the closet: a black dress, a pair of heels, a pair of women's sneakers, a fleece pullover, a suit jacket and pants. All of them were ripped off the hangers and deposited on the floor, and Jake stepped over them on his way to the bed.

On the corner sat a yellow afghan that he didn't recognize, so it was left untouched. That would not have been the case, however, if he had known that it was the one his great-Gram Audrey had crocheted just for her favorite granddaughter. There was a fireplace in the bedroom, too, above which was a large painting of brownish homes in front of a large expanse of water. Jake wouldn't have even known what it was without the postcard of the exact likeness that was sitting in the bottom left corner of the frame. His mother's name was scrawled over the blue sky that matched his eyes perfectly in color.

The painting came down and was tossed to the floor, and Jake moved on to inspect the one that hung over the bed. This one was just as confusing as the other one, but there was no postcard added to help clear it up. It was blue and green with a streak of red and something yellow and circular in the corner. He could make out a sign but the letters were ridiculously blurred, something starting with A and looking far too long to be a real English word.

It didn't matter. The painting came down as well, but Jake actually stopped for a moment to wonder the significance of the fact that it had been hanging above the bed before he tossed it on the ground.

Morgan and Molly were outside in the hall, talking in hushed hisses, when Jake finally came out. In his hand he held a faded baseball cap with the signature of a star pitcher scrawled across the bill. Morgan recognized it immediately as Jake shoved the cap into Molly's hands and moved across the hall to the last room.

She turned it over in her hands, her lips pursed in a frown, and finally remembered Jake as a teenager, laughing about how he pulled one over on his old man by having five identical hats.

With a sigh, she placed it on her head, quirking a sardonic look at her cousin. Morgan shifted uneasily, and Molly adjusted her laptop in the crook of her elbow and walked down the hall, away from him, away from this madness and destruction.

"Jake?" Hesitantly, Morgan stepped closer to the door and put his hand on the wood, peeking in. Jake had been in there a couple minutes and hadn't made a single sound. "You – aw, fuck."

There, on the easel that stood in the center of the room he now knew to be a little art studio, sat a large sketchpad with a single drawing. Jake stood in front of it, the hard line of his shoulders partially barring the drawing from sight, but Morgan had seen it anyway.

It was a picture of Jake as an infant. He was wearing his little blue jeans and a t-shirt and was sucking his foot into his mouth. Unlike the smaller one he'd found downstairs, Morgan saw that there was another person in this one. Jason, dressed in matching jeans and a dark-colored t-shirt, held little Jake in his arms, looking down at him with the most perfect expression of fatherly love, pride, and devotion.

Morgan swallowed roughly and his eyes darted sideways toward his best friend. Jake had turned ashen, his face as white as a sheet.

His breathing was shallow, the rise and fall of his chest almost imperceptible, as if he was doing everything he could to keep himself together in one piece.

Morgan licked his lips, trying to figure out the best way to proceed. If Michael were here, he'd know. His older brother had a way of saying the right thing at the right time, especially where Jake was concerned. When they were kids, after they found out the truth about Jake's lineage, Mike had almost adopted him as a little brother. That secret marked a turning point in their family. Whereas Morgan and Michael fought like cats and dogs throughout their early years, the secret brought them closer together as Michael started showing more patience and tolerance when it came to his little brother's friends as well.

Morgan always figured that it was because Michael looked at Jake and was always able to see the hurt in his eyes whenever Jason was present or even mentioned. Mike was connected to Jason in a way that no one else was, and he acted partly out of guilt because of that. He ran interference whenever he could, and Morgan knew from an early age that the reason his brother started treating him better afterwards was because he would look at Jake and see how badly he wanted to be connected to that part of his family, and Michael knew that he could no longer behave as if he were ungrateful for his own flesh-and-blood, openly acknowledged little brother in good conscience.

Mike always knew the right thing to say to Jake. Always. It was just a given. He was a lot like Cameron in that sense, but there was a difference. Cameron always knew the right thing to _do_, whether it was to hug his brother, tousle his hair, or just beat the crap out of him, and Michael always knew the right thing to _say_. Sometimes, he said nothing at all.

So Morgan followed suit and just stood next to his friend, hoping that his presence and solidarity with him would help.

Wordlessly, Jake picked up the picture. He held it right in front of him and stared at it for the longest moment, his expression unreadable. His knuckles turned white as he gripped it, but Morgan doubted Jake even noticed.

He cringed when his phone buzzed and pulled it out of his pocket, frowning when he saw Chase's name on the ID. He flipped it open with his thumb and took a big step back, then another.

"What?"

"_There's a bike in the little garage down behind the house over here."_

Morgan blinked, and realization dawned just after the word left his mouth. "What?"

"_A bike," _Chase continued, of course unaware that his employer had already figured it out on the other end. _"A motorcycle. Shit, it's practically rusted through. What should I do with- what? What do you mean, you hear someone driving up? I don't hear...oh, shit."_

Morgan swore and turned on his heel, knowing he had to get downstairs immediately. Behind him, he heard a powerful crash as glass shattered and something heavy was launched out onto the front yard, and knew that Jake had hurled the easel through the window.

* * *

**.: Outside :.**

"I don't fucking care," Chase was growling at two of the younger guards as they dragged the bike out of the shed. "Hide it, get it into those bushes, cover it up, just get it out of here. Shit, Penn, any idea-"

"We've got a sedan and an SUV," he said, jogging up the walkway as Morgan joined them. If the guards had any questions about the easel that was now laying busted on the grass, they were too smart to give voice to them.

"It's Jason," Molly affirmed glumly. She had driven the SUV Chase and Penn took further up the drive way and now hopped out, her brown eyes solemn and weary. "Followed closely by Ms. Webber. Of all the days-"

If he didn't know beyond the shadow of a doubt that this would be very, very bad, Morgan would have laughed at the irony of it all.

"Bike hidden," one of the younger guards said, securely shutting the garage door and locking it. "I'll make sure it's picked up for disposal if you like."

Chase and Penn were barely listening and were now alternating between looking at the edge of the driveway, where Jason would presumably appear any minute, and up at the house. It was clear they worried about their employer; as the senior guards, they worked very closely with Jake and considered him as much a friend as a boss. They were aware of how his secret parentage tormented Jake, how hurt and angry and betrayed he was, and how he wrestled with those emotions every single day.

Morgan closed his eyes when Jason's SUV finally pulled into view, and he kept them closed as Jason drove up to the house. Molly cringed and looked away, but Chase and Penn stood their ground as they'd been trained to do and would later comment on the panicked, stricken look on Jason's face. Elizabeth's silver sedan, the one she wouldn't let Jake replace with a brand-new luxury car, pulled up next and slowly idled to a halt.

Morgan sighed and, slipping his hands into his pockets, took a few steps forward to meet them. They both climbed out of their cars, shared a look, and then stared at him for any possible explanation.

"What the hell's going on here?" Jason wanted to know.

Elizabeth looked back and forth between those gathered. "What – what are you all doing here? How did you even _know _about this place?"

Before Morgan could say anything, the front door was kicked open and Jake stormed out of the house. Elizabeth gasped when she saw him, and Jason turned as white as his son had been earlier.

Morgan took a few steps toward him as he came stomping down the drive. "Jake-"

"I want to burn this place down to the ground," he grumbled, his expression stormy. The look on his face didn't change when he saw his mother standing there a few paces behind Jason, and Morgan sucked in a breath when he saw Jake's shoulders square as he took a deep breath, bringing himself up to his full height.

Jason was the first one to speak, and he took two steps toward his son. "Jake, I don't know what you're thinking, but just-"

That was all he had the chance to say. Jake gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowed and throwing off sparks, and the next thing they knew, he leapt at his father. Elizabeth let out a scream and Molly covered her mouth with her hands as Jake threw the first punch, catching his father directly in the face.

They saw blood, either Jake's or Jason's, as Jake tackled him to the ground. Chase and Penn leapt forward, trying to diffuse the fight, but struggled to pull Jake away from Jason as he slugged him. Jason fended off the blows as best as he could, refusing to throw any punches of his own at his boy. The guards finally wrenched Jake free and hauled him onto his feet. Morgan tossed Molly the keys to the SUV that Chase had driven and ran around to the other side of the car, unlocking the doors.

Jake was cursing and thrashing, trying to get free so he could once again attack Jason, who was being helped up into a sitting position by Elizabeth. Penn threw open the side door and got in, and Chase shoved Jake toward him. Together, the two men successfully got him into the car and shut the door, and Morgan threw it into gear and pulled out, eager to put as much space between them and the old safe house as he could.

Jake finished fighting off Chase and Penn and collapsed back onto the seat, breathing hard. His lip was bleeding from one of his father's deflections and his body trembled with anger and energy.

"Sleeping owner, my ass."

* * *

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

They sat in Jake's private parlor. Morgan shifted in the large armchair, vigilantly watching his best friend. Jake was seated on the couch facing the window, staring out of it blankly. His chin was propped up in his hand and he wasn't moving otherwise, just staring.

He'd been that way since they'd gotten him home, and Chase and Penn left to run interference and take care of things while Morgan decided he'd better stay and make sure Jake was okay. He always worried about his friend during his bouts of rage, and there was no way he was leaving until he was sure Jake wouldn't do something stupid.

Molly had called and said that she was going to have the safe house cleaned. Jake had done considerable damage and she said that the crew would be sweeping everything up and restoring it until he figured out what he wanted to do. She would be visiting the rest of the properties herself so that this business could be done with sooner rather than later and would have a detailed report in front of them in two days at the latest.

Jason and Elizabeth had tried to get through to Jake. They'd called, but Morgan had pinched Jake's phone and had all of the incoming calls forwarded to his cell. He hadn't bothered answering his uncle's or Elizabeth's many calls. There was nothing he could say to them and there was nothing Jake wanted to say to them so unfortunately, everyone was just on ice until things had a chance to cool off. He took the calls about the business but frequently referred them to Chase and Penn. Those guards knew the most about the business, anyway; Morgan wasn't in any sort of position to make these sorts of decisions anyway. He was the real sleeping owner here, he figured, in an ironic twist.

Jason and Elizabeth had also come by the house, but Morgan hadn't been aware of that. Chase was running interference for his boss, as usual, and ordered the men not to open the gate for them, feeling that Jake was in no condition to see either one of them and that forcing him to meet them would likely do more damage than good. So his parents had been turned away, and Morgan only found out about it after the fact when Chase sent him a text. He didn't know that he would have reversed the decision and decided not to stop and think about it.

He had tried to talk to Jake, but it hadn't done much good. His best friend didn't even appear to hear him. So Morgan left the room – only after making sure that one of the junior guards was in there while he was out – to place a call to his brother in London. Michael had listened patiently as Morgan explained the situation, then quietly admitted that he didn't know what to do either.

"You're doing a good job," he told his brother from some thirty-five hundred miles away. "Just...Morgan, just make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

That was the recurring theme with all of them whenever Jake was upset, and the first thing Morgan had done upon entering Morgan Manor was to take the necessary precautions. He made sure Jake was taken to the parlor and promptly removed all the liquor he found there, leaving it with the staff with specific instructions that it not be put back. He couldn't be too careful, after all.

Amalia was in Milan, visiting with her aunt, otherwise she would have been there with him to run damage control. She'd already gotten word thanks to her best friend Molly and had cut her visit short. Molly reported that in the background she could hear Claudia Zacchara wondering aloud why her niece wasted her time and energy on Jason Morgan's little bastard.

Cameron knew the broad details of what had happened thanks to his girlfriend, but was unfortunately locked in surgery. He said it would easily be a couple of hours, but that he would be over as soon as he possibly could.

Still, Morgan felt that he could handle this. He'd persuaded Jake to sit, calm down, cool off, and had tried to get him to eat something. The sandwich sat on the table just as it was when it had been brought in by the maid, but Jake had at least sipped the water, which was something.

For the first time in two hours, Jake moved. Morgan watched him take a bottle of pills out of his pocket and shake out one. He watched very carefully, making sure that it was _only_ one, and sat back in his chair when he was satisfied. Jake swallowed it and actually washed it down with more water, and Morgan was relieved.

His best friend had yet to say a word, and he would have given just about anything to know what Jake was thinking. The safe house had been quite a blow. He remembered Jake saying once that it was never easy being without Jason, but it made it a little easier to know that he wasn't alone, that his mother and his brother weren't with Jason either. But the visit to the safe house revealed something else entirely: Jason and Elizabeth appeared to have had a relationship, a _life_, there for at least some time.

Morgan wondered how long Jake presumed the duration of time to be. Did he think his parents lived there secretly all his life? Or just a couple years?

He knew the only way to be sure was to ask them, but Jake was in no condition to meet with his parents right now and so he didn't suggest it.

Instead, he just sat and watched him, prayed for him, hoped for him. It was the best he could do sometimes, and Morgan knew that if he didn't at least find solace in that, he'd go out of his mind. Sometimes he worried for Amalia, the way she cared for Jake. Sometimes he thought that all she wanted was to just protect Jake from the world, and if that was the case, she'd end up going out of her mind, too, if she didn't stop.

But at least Amalia had a good head on her shoulders and didn't let Jake take advantage of her. She felt deeply when it came to him, but not so much as to be blind to who he was. Morgan had always admired that, and he was a little ashamed to admit that as a younger man, he hadn't thought her capable of such strength when it came to Jake.

Finally, Jake sighed and rubbed his temples. Morgan knew this meant that his head was hurting him. His head always started to hurt when he was stressed or upset, and few things, if any, brought him relief. Even the pills were just a stall tactic and didn't do much good. They wore off before Jake was ready to deal with the pain again, and he didn't want to take any more than he absolutely had to at the risk of becoming addicted, and so just dealt with the pain as best he could.

They sat like that for hours, together in the private parlor at Morgan Manor, watching the sun reluctantly set on another interminable day.

* * *

_Later..._

Morgan awoke to a buzzing in his pants, but in his groggy sleep, mistook the mild sensation and thought for a moment that he was being fellated.

He stretched and let out a sigh once he became more aware, finally reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. He hadn't meant to sleep, had actually ordered two cups of coffee from the maid so that he wouldn't fall asleep and be remiss in his watchdog duties, but he had been flying back and forth to Washington all week and was exhausted. "Hello?"

"_Morgan, it's me." _Cameron's voice was clear and steady, and the rushing sound in the background toward Morgan that he was driving. _"Chase just let me in and I'm pulling up to the door. Be there in a second. How is he? What's he doing?"_

"He's fine, he's right...Oh, shit."

He turned off the phone and dropped it on the chair, getting up to his feet. Jake wasn't on the couch. Morgan quickly looked around the large room, his ears craned to pick up even the smallest sound, but he didn't see him anywhere. Somewhere outside, down the hall, he could hear Cameron let himself into the house.

"Fuck." Morgan headed toward the couch, his eyes busily scanning the room. "Jake? Jake!"

Cameron's steps drew closer.

Morgan turned his head when he saw something move by the bookcase, right by the narrow hallway that opened up into the private offices. He spotted it: Jake's shoe. And as he moved closer, he heard it: the softest, most muffled sounds of someone choking.

The books on the shelf had been moved aside, revealing some sort of secret cupboard, and he saw the top of a crystal tumbler twinkling at his feet. Morgan swore and lunged forward, dropping to his knees, when he saw Jake lying on his back, his torso twisted, a small puddle of vomit on the floor right next to his head.

His lashes fluttered, his eyes rolling backward, and Morgan immediately checked his pulse as the door opened and Cameron entered the room. The doctor's curse, sharp and biting, echoed in the large, empty room as he flung himself down on the floor next to Morgan, immediately reaching for the pen light always present in his pocket.

Jake groaned and coughed some more, spitting out more rancid vomit, and Morgan couldn't see his pupils as his eyes threatened to roll back again. He did, however, hear his voice, rough and gravelly and lost.

"...I wasn't enough."


	56. If My Daddy Thinks I'm Fine

**Note – **Enjoy. Or not. Just to make things clear, in the beginning everyone is operating on the presumption that Jake's drug misuse was intentional. At the end of the chapter, it's clear that it was not intentional.

**Mean 55**

_They tried to make me go to rehab;_

_I said, no, no, no._

_Yes, I've been black_

_but when I come back_

_You'll know, know, know._

_I ain't got the time,_

_And if my daddy thinks I'm fine,_

_He's tried to make me go to rehab;_

_I won't go, go, go._

-- "Rehab," Amy Winehouse

**.: General Hospital :.**

As far as Molly Lansing was concerned, this had been bound to happen.

It wasn't exactly a novel idea; she couldn't claim to be extraordinarily perceptive and forward-thinking for realizing that Jake would one day abuse something and end up in trouble. Everyone shared the same concerns. Cameron was vigilant about what his little brother put in his body; he knew that Jake drank, as did they all, and that he dabbled with recreational drugs like cocaine and marijuana, as had some of them, and, of course, there was the matter of the prescription drug he was taking.

Back when Jake was staying with Cameron, the doctor had gone so far as to keep his liquor cabinet locked when he wasn't home. It had been a rough time for Jake, moving out of his mother's house after learning of her part in his paternity mess, and though Cameron never said it explicitly, Molly knew that her boyfriend was tremendously proud of his brother for not drinking himself under the table back then.

Morgan was the one that kept an eye on the pills that Jake took. When they were first prescribed to him, Jake would cut them in half and only take one when his pain became almost debilitating, to the point where he couldn't sit, stand, lie down, or even _think_ without his head feeling like it would explode. That worked for a while, and he was able to let his refill lapse for two, three weeks at a time on occasion. But gradually he built up resistance and had to take a whole pill as frequently (or infrequently, depending on how one looked at it) as he used to take the half-pill.

Cameron expected this, but that didn't lessen Morgan's concern. He'd watch his best friend, mentally note how often he took those pills, and how long he let his refill lapse. They all knew that Jake was careful, that he initially resisted being put on the medication because he knew it was habit-forming, but they also knew that he was, after all, only human. And that he had more to deal with in his short life than most people did in several lifetimes combined.

So as far as Molly was concerned, this had been a long time coming. That didn't, however, make it any easier to deal with.

She worried for her old friend. She worried for his brother, her boyfriend, who often took on the responsibility of 'fixing' or 'saving' Jake when he got hurt. Cameron had done that since the two had been children. She worried for Morgan, who was likely taking this hard and blaming himself for falling asleep.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and finished loading changes in the hospital's schedule. Molly had been working for Jake for quite some time and knew the implicit protocol. If Jake had been awake when he was brought to the hospital, he would have told her to fix things so that his mother wouldn't know that he was a patient there.

So Molly did just what Jake would have told her to if he could: she accessed the server and switched the rotation schedule around so that Robin, Patrick, Nadine, Elizabeth, Leyla, and anyone else that was relatively close to the situation, would be working in other areas. She adjusted things so that Jake was in a relatively quiet wing of the hospital where only the highly specialized doctors worked and instructed his specific caretakers not to make mention of his presence, much less his ailment. She claimed it was for security purposes and to prevent information from being leaked to the papers and the gossip blogs that had recently latched onto Jake's persona, but the real reason behind it was simple.

Elizabeth Webber and Jason Morgan were simply not to know of what happened that evening.

And if everything went according to plan, they never would.

Molly sighed and clicked out of the application, logging herself out of the server. The changes would post instantly, just in time for the next rotation of shifts.

She clicked her painted nails on the laptop and finally closed the lid, her expression grim as she wondered when, if ever, she'd be able to stop saving Jake's ass when he didn't care enough to save his own.

* * *

**.: Immunology Department Lounge, General Hospital :.**

"He went too far this time."

Molly handed Cameron his favorite coffee mug – the one that read _It's Never Lupus –_ and joined him on the couch with her own. Cameron drank a French Vanilla coffee brew purchased by the hospital from his brother's business while she preferred green tea, and for the longest time they just sat silently with their steaming beverages between them.

"He had his stomach-"

"Yeah, we pumped it," he replied quietly. "Flushed everything out of his system and hooked him up to an IV. They'll let me know when the tox report comes back. He's resting now, he'll come out of it in a few hours and be discharged in twenty-four hours."

Molly knew the protocol. "...After a psych consult."

Cameron nodded grimly. "After a psych consult."

Drug misuse in adults was a serious issue, and General Hospital was just like all the other good hospitals in that respect. Misuse was considered intentional unless there was excellent cause to suggest otherwise, and Molly knew that Jake would need to attend a documented session with a psychiatrist before he was discharged. She knew that it would be Mal; none of them would ever think to take their chances by letting an outsider in on the case. She also knew that if Jake wanted to, he could easily find a way to bypass the evaluation and just leave on his own, and there wouldn't be a thing that the hospital could do about it.

She was snapped out of her reverie by Cameron, who set his mug down on the table without having touched it and slumped back on the couch.

"This is my fault."

"No, no, no." Molly had known he would say that, and she wouldn't let him do it. "It's _not_ your fault. You didn't do it, Cameron. You weren't there. You didn't force him to take the pills, you didn't put the bottle in his hand. For Christ's sake-"

"I know that," he replied testily before wearily scrubbing a hand over his face. He peeked at her through his fingers, and suddenly she didn't know what to say. "...I think I enable him."

When she remained quiet, Cameron let out a sigh and slowly leaned forward, tenting his fingers between his knees. "I think I've enabled him all his life."

Somehow, she found her voice but managed to reply with the least helpful remark possible. "He's your brother. You love him. You want to help him."

"But not at the expense of – of-" He struggled with the words. "Of his health and sanity. Jesus, I made it so easy for him, too. Gee, Jake, I know your life's pretty fucked up, here, have a prescription pain reliever that 3 million people abuse each year. God fucking damn it..."

"You gave it to him as legitimate treatment," she argued. "You did the research – I saw how much time you spent on it. Vicodin offers the best treatment for his unique symptoms, you were only-"

"It was like handing a troubled kid a stick of dynamite and a match," Cameron continued, shaking his head in disbelief. "This was bound to happen sooner or later."

Molly jumped on that remark. "Exactly – it was _bound to happen_. Whenever things got too bad, he could have reached for the scotch or the Vicodin. And, fine, admittedly, things have been pretty bad lately. Especially after yesterday. Morgan – uh – he told you everything, right?"

"I'm kind of shaky on it," Cameron admitted. "I don't think I got half of what he was saying. So, Mom and Jason have a house?"

"They had been using one of the safe houses that Sonny and Jason own for...well..." She threw up her hands helplessly. "You know."

"Sex," Cameron stated flatly.

"Presumably," she replied with a shrug. "I mean, they weren't reading the Bible. But it was more than that."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning..." Her lips twisted downward as she recalled the look on Jake's face, the devastation in his eyes. "There were coats in the closet. Books on the shelf – his travel books and her medical stuff. Glasses in the cupboards, dishes in the dishwasher. Paintings on the wall, razors and a toothbrush caddy in the bathroom. They...It was like they..."

"Had a life there," Cameron finished heavily. He let his head fall in his hands, trying to ease away a dull headache. "Christ. No wonder Jake was upset."

"He was more than upset," Molly admitted. "He destroyed it. Took the paintings down, dumped the books on the floor, broke the dishes. Threw your mother's easel out the window."

He looked up. "She had an easel there? Like, to paint and draw?"

Molly nodded. "There were sketches and paintings hanging up everywhere, in about every room, with her name on them. She probably painted them there. And – And we knew enough based on the notes on the house and the timeline that this was going on when you and Jake were about one and four, very likely longer. Although I'm pretty sure Jake's initial thought was that it had been going on for much, much longer."

Cameron was still trying to process his mother's secret life with a mob enforcer and couldn't resist feeling irritated as well, which then led him to question whether or not he had any right to feel irritated, which then made him feel inadequate and as if he was a ghostly, irrelevant spectator to his mother's life with no right to comment on it, which then made him even more irritated with the whole thing.

"He would have done the math."

"Unless he was just devastated by it," Molly said quietly. "And he was. You didn't see him. He said he wanted to burn the place down, and then when he saw Jason, it was like something snapped. I doubt Jake was even thinking straight the rest of the night until he...until he, well, you know."

She shook her head and twisted on the couch, taking his hand and making him look at her. "Look. Listen to me, okay? You can't control what Jake does. No matter how bad anyone feels, it's never an excuse for destroying your life this way. He was lucky, you and Morgan got to him in time. You helped him. You've always helped him. Help him now by making him take responsibility for his actions and seek help."

Molly let go of his hands and settled her own on her knees, nodding to herself. "That's what we've all got to do."

* * *

**.: Hospital Room, General Hospital :.**

"Jake, did you hear me?" Molly leaned forward slightly, wishing that he'd look at her instead of looking out the window. "I said I don't think I can work for you anymore."

"Heard you the first time."

Her lips tightened. "You didn't say anything."

Jake remained silent, still staring out that damn window, and Molly wanted to walk over and just shut the blinds. In the distance, they could see the site of Webber Towers, an ELQ venture wholly supported by Edward as a tribute to his old friend Steve Hardy and somewhat the mother of his great-grandson as well, as the town's newest skyrise was slowly constructed. Jake watched the cranes lift what looked like a tiny blue box at this distance and was motionless otherwise.

They hadn't talked about his overdose, and Molly didn't know if she even wanted to. There didn't seem to be much to say about that. All she could go on was what her gut was telling her, and that was exactly what she was doing.

"Say something now."

He turned his head the barest fraction of an inch at her softly spoken request. "Doesn't really seem to be much to say. You've stated your position, obviously you have a reason for it that you've thought out."

Molly closed her eyes. "If this is the way things are going to be-"

"What way, exactly?" he asked tightly, his words drawled with just a tinge of sarcasm. "Just so I'm clear."

"Jake, you almost died," she hissed, having no patience left for his games. "I can't ignore that. _You_ shouldn't ignore that. You almost died, and it wasn't because of where you were or what you do, it was because of...because of..."

"Because of who I am," Jake said flatly.

Molly was silent for a moment, then finally looked away. "If this is the way things are going to be, if you're not going to be able to find ways to deal with your circumstances that aren't completely self-destructive, if you're not even going to seek some form of _help-_"

His eyes narrowed. "You actually think I was trying to take my life, don't you?"

She stopped, her mouth partially open. It took a moment for her to find the words, but one in particular sprang to mind. Denial. Jake was a master when it came to telling himself what he needed to believe in order to get things done, and she wouldn't be sucked in by it like everyone else was.

"You're going to look me in the eyes and tell me you weren't?"

Jake snorted. "Doesn't matter. You've already reached your conclusions."

Molly let out an impatient growl, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. "It's impossible for you to just deal with anything, isn't it? You've always got to wrap it up in a million layers of true and false until the whole thing is muddled, and in some bizarre way, that makes it even clearer to you and just indecipherable to everyone else. It's like you're living in your world, which I guess makes sense because you can't deal what's going on in this one."

She got up from her seat and walked over to the bed, her hands fisted at her sides. "Jake. I'll lay it out plainly. You can't escape from it. Your mother had an affair with your father and they made you. Neither one planned it, and she lied about it and he let her. He never stepped forward to claim you. They had a secret relationship for years, possibly, while you were a baby before they broke it off. Yes, it's real shitty of them. Yes, it's unfair to you. But, no, it's not going to go away just because you want it to, just because you ignore it and tell yourself it can't hurt you anymore. It's done nothing but hurt you since you were six, and that was because you let it. No one else, just you. That's on you."

Molly ran a hand through her hair, and he saw that it trembled. "God, why do you have to do this to yourself? You want to be angry? Fine! No one's saying you can't be! No one's even saying you shouldn't be! Shit, I would have run away from home and never gone back if my parents pulled that crap. You want to be angry? You say to them, fuck you, I'm not going to let this ruin my life."

It was the most he'd ever heard her swear in one breath, and Jake watched silently as she ranted on.

"And you _don't let it ruin your life._" Sober, earnest brown eyes bore into his. "Jake, they're human. Just like you. They made mistakes. They're only human."

If she had him at all before, it was lost now as Jake's face contorted in a mixture of incredulity and sheer disgust. "They're only human? _They're only human?!_"

Molly balked a little. "I just meant-"

"Fuck that, Moll!" Openly fuming now, he ripped away the tubes still connected to him and tossed them away, sitting half up in the bed. "They're only fucking human? What the fuck kind of thing is that to say? Human is – human is _not_ that! _Your _parents were human. Your mom was a neurotic workaholic and your dad got drunk and had an affair. It dissolved their marriage. That is called being human. Morgan's parents are human – at least, Jax is. He couldn't handle his wife cheating on him with Sonny for the billionth time so he initiated a separation until CeeCee was born because he didn't know that he could look at her without being angry. _That_ is called being human. Mal and Anna's parents – Mal's dad wasn't ready to be a father and freaked out. That's called being human."

He snorted again in disgust. "Getting pregnant by one man, lying to him about it, and then asking him to pretend that the child was conceived with another? That's not a mistake, Moll. There are too many steps in there – missteps. That's not a mistake, that's intentional. It's pre-meditated. It's ignorant and it's bullshit, but it's not a simple _mistake_. A mistake is when you take the car out when you're not supposed to and dent it. It was my life, and it was decided for the _worst _before I ever had the power to do anything about it. They're not human – they're fucking idiots!

"And you think I should, what, get over it?"

His words were laced with venom, but she'd seen him get angry before, ever since he was a boy, and Molly was strong enough not to take it personally. Her parents had always fought visibly in front of her and Kristina, so she had conditioned herself at a young age to take a step back and dissociate when she saw an exchange of anger and bitterness.

"Do you know how many times I've heard that?" Jake demanded. "From the crack addicts in this town, from the shit-for-brains gossip bloggers or whatever they're called, from the jackass talk show hosts that somehow think the private affairs of my life are public domain. Anyone that thinks I should just _get over it_ can go get fucked. It's not something you get over, it's not something you can excuse away forever by saying that they're human. Oh, they're human, that cancels out all the shit they've ever done, great. No. They're fucking idiots, both of them."

"So what?" She lifted her chin a notch when he stared at her in disbelief. "Fine, they're fucking idiots. So what? You going to let them ruin your life even more? You going to use them as an excuse to completely self-destruct?"

He didn't answer, just looked at her, and Molly finally closed her eyes in weariness. "You can't do it, can you? You can't take care of yourself. You're always going to do this, you're always going to try to get rid of the hurt and the anger you feel in ways that will only increase it. Fine. You know what? I don't think I can stand by and watch you do that. I don't think I can stay with you if you're going to force me to hang back and do nothing while you kill yourself."

Jake worked his jaw, his eyes hard and expressionless. "Fine."

"Jake!" She looked down at him, beseechingly frustrated. "Say something – really say something. Do something!"

"Like what?"

"Seek help."

"No."

Her strength seemed to leave her in that moment, and Molly looked smaller to him when she covered her face with her hands. It took her a minute to compose herself and when she looked up again, she looked like she always did: strong and unflappable.

"Fine."

Leaving him with that oft-repeated word, Molly picked up her laptop and headed for the door, letting it click loudly shut behind her as she walked even faster down the hallway, willing away the tears that pooled in her eyes. She held her laptop in the crook of her arm, looser now. It contained all of the information Jake utilized to keep every aspect of his business running smoothly, all of the information on his associates and enemies that kept them at the top of their game.

And Molly was so proud of herself for not dashing it to bits on the floor.

* * *

**.: Hallway, General Hospital :.**

Cameron looked up when he heard the click of stilettos on the floor, then issued a few last directions to his fellows and dismissed them. Amalia shared a knowing look with him but didn't stop as she headed down the hallway to Jake's room.

Cameron tried to smile at her, mostly because he thought she needed that. "I'm glad you're here. He's going to need you."

Her blue eyes glittered, and he was suddenly reminded of her cold, calculating aunt that he had met only a handful of times since his childhood.

"That's just too damn bad."

* * *

_Later..._

"I'm fine, really." Molly leaned into Cameron's side as he rubbed circles on her knee with his fingertips. "I just...I feel like this is something I have to do. You said it yourself: you think you enable him. Well, so do I. I have to find a way to stop."

"You sure this is it, though?" Her boyfriend didn't sound wholly convinced. "If you leave him all alone, who's going to help him? With the business?"

"He has other guys," she assured him quietly. "About three of them. They're my ducklings. They've followed me around, learned as much as they could from me. They'll be able to help Jake. He'll be fine, I know it."

"...And?"

He knew her way too well.

"And I told them to contact me immediately if they feel like they're in over their heads or have even the tiniest problem. But not to let Jake know that."

The corner of Cameron's mouth quirked up. "You're as bad as I am."

"I know," she groaned. "But we're doing the right thing, right? We're helping him? God, I can't even piece through it anymore. I don't know."

"I think we're forcing him to help himself," Cameron finally replied. He straightened on the couch in the little waiting area when he heard a door open and then shut, and they looked up to see Amalia finally come out of Jake's room.

She smiled tiredly at them and walked over, and they saw that her clothes were wrinkled from the flight back from Milan.

"Hey."

"Hey." There was no room on the couch, so Cameron shifted his legs to the side. "Sit."

Amalia slid down onto the coffee table, dropping her tote bag to the floor and, propping herself back on her hands, let out a sigh at the ceiling. "Man."

"Seriously," Molly chimed in humorlessly.

"You, uh..." Cameron cleared his throat, not quite knowing how to phrase what he had to ask. "You get to see him?"

Amalia nodded at the self-evident question. "Yeah."

Her best friend arched a brow at her. "Well?"

She licked her lips, looking back and forth between the two of them. "I told him I'd leave him if he didn't stop all this. If he didn't make drastic changes."

Molly's lips parted in surprise. "You said that?"

Amalia nodded. "Yeah. Told him we were through if it was true, if he really tried to..."

She couldn't finish the thought, and neither of them needed her to. "And what did he say?"

"He said it was an accident."

Cameron frowned. "What?"

"He said it was an accident," Amalia repeated. "That he took a pill and didn't realize that only half an hour had passed since he'd taken it. He thought it was longer, so he took another one. Then he drank a glass of whiskey and the next thing he knew, he couldn't stand up and he started vomiting."

Molly's brown eyes shone with sympathy. "Lia. He would have said anything to keep you from breaking things off."

"I know," she insisted, trying not to dwell on that. "But at the same time, Jake's never lied to me. Not even when it was in his best interest to do so. Not even when he knew that telling me the truth would make things really bad between us. He's never lied to me before...and I don't think he's lying now."

"Lia, you told him you'd leave him, he was just-"

"He wasn't lying," Amalia repeated, her eyes blazing now. "Cam, isn't there some way to tell for sure?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "We'll know as soon as I get my toxicology report back."

"He's not lying," she said again, sitting back on the table. "He's not."

* * *

**.: Outside Jake's Room :.**

"Dr. Webber."

He was pacing the hallway outside of Jake's room when one of his fellows came trotting up with a sheet of paper in her hand.

"Yes?"

"Tox screen came back," she said, holding it out to him. "I'm sorry for the delay. There was a malfunction in the lab and we had to run it again. Here you go."

"Thank you." He held the sheet behind his back without looking at it. "How's our parasitic pig farmer?"

"We're putting him on the next course of-"

"Go check on him," Cameron interrupted. "I want you there personally. Don't leave the nurses to handle it. They'll be trying to properly administer the dose; I need you to keep an eye on his oxygen levels. Go."

She looked confused, but knew better than to challenge him. Cameron waited until she'd disappeared from view before he pulled out the sheet of paper and scanned it once quickly, then read over it a second time more slowly.

After a long moment, he reached out and twisted open the handle to his brother's private room. He stepped inside, slowly shutting the door behind himself and leaning against it. Jake was in bed and quirked a smile at him in the dim evening light.

"You didn't intentionally overdose."

Jake tilted his head to the side. "And you've been avoiding me."

He pushed himself away from the door, brandishing the toxicology report. "Too few pills, not enough alcohol in your system. If it were intentional, you'd have taken more pills and drank more whiskey."

"You didn't know what to say to me."

"You didn't have more than a thousand milligrams in your system, and I doubt you even got half a glass down before you passed out."

"You were afraid to deal with the thought that I might have tried to kill myself."

"You didn't." It was the first time he'd addressed the situation to Jake personally, and Cameron lifted his chin a notch. "Not according to what was in your system. Two pills wouldn't have taken you down. Would have made you light-headed, might have caused you to faint, might have caused you to have respiratory distress at the absolute most. Even two pills and alcohol wouldn't have taken you down the way it did."

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Jake, you had a bad reaction. You combined Vicodin and whiskey and had a bad reaction to it. I'm calling in a consult on this case so that the objectivity of my diagnosis can't be called into question. I'm going to say that there was no intentional overdosing in this case."

"You thought I tried to kill myself."

Cameron nodded slowly. "Yeah. And I'm sorry."

Jake shook his head and eased himself back down into bed. "Don't be. I would have thought the same. Would have made sense, given everything."

His brother let out a slow, whooshing breath. "Yeah, it made sense to me. You'd just found out about...Mom and Jason. Again."

His attempt at humor didn't land, and Jake closed his eyes. "They were meeting secretly. While pretending that I was Pop's, they were meeting secretly. They had their own little life. In secret. Away from me. And you."

Cameron didn't say anything.

"And when I saw all that..." His face contorted again as he gestured absently. "His coat with Mom's in the closet, dishes in the cupboard, his books next to hers, his toothbrush in the caddy with her pink one, the hair brush they shared...Fuck. I lost it. I lost it completely."

"I can understand how you would," Cameron allowed. "It was a lot to-"

"Don't do that." Jake shook his head. "You don't have to do that, Cam, you never really did. You don't have to always take my side because you think it'll make me feel better not to be alone. You can feel what you want to feel, I have no say in that."

"Look, I'm with Moll on this one. It was a really shitty thing of them to do." Sober brown eyes found his, and Jake didn't doubt Cameron's sincerity for a moment. "I understand that they need each other, that it was the only way they could be together, but it was terrible. It wasn't fair to you, not one bit. It was almost cruel, on top of everything else they'd already done to you before you could have a say in it. But that's where I gotta draw the line, kid. You can't _do this _to yourself. You just can't. It's cruel. It's irresponsible. It's not who you are."

"Actually, it's exactly who I am," Jake laughed before sobering out of consideration for his brother. "That's why you thought that I had actually done it intentionally."

"But-"

"Moll said something."

Cameron twiddled his thumbs. "She said she wasn't going to work for you anymore."

Jake ignored that. "She said that I can't let them ruin my life with their decisions. And it got me because...because I told myself that a long time ago. When I found out that Mom asked Jason to give me up and that pretending I was Lucky's for good was always her idea. I told myself that I couldn't control her stupid choices or Jason's, that I couldn't go back and fix them, that I didn't have any control over that shit. That I could only control what I did and that I should focus on myself and doing what I want and what I need."

"To be happy?"

"Or something like it," he allowed. "But...somehow, here I am. I'm right back where I started, right back where I told myself I wouldn't be anymore."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "I told myself that I would move past it. That I wouldn't let that hurt me anymore. But I don't know how not to let it. It would have been so easy, Cam. _So easy_. Five or six more of those pills, a half bottle of whiskey..."

"Don't say that," Cameron hissed. "Do you have any idea-"

"Would have been so easy," Jake murmured. "According to all the circumstances and my track record, I should have done it. There's no reason why I shouldn't have done it."

That was more than Cameron could handle. "What the hell would that have proved? Huh? What would that have accomplished? You think you'd only be hurting Mom and Jason? That you'd only be saving yourself from having to deal with all this shit? What about Morgan? What about Mike and Lia? What about me?"

Jake shook his head. "Don't make it personal. I'm saying from a purely objective standpoint, if you didn't know me and were tracking my life like I was some kind of lab rat, watching everything I did, taking it down, you would have had no reason to think that I didn't try to kill myself. That's what Moll was getting at, too."

He folded his hands over his stomach, staring at the wall without seeing it. "And it struck me that she was right: that was exactly where I was. And I had no idea how the hell I got there. And that scared the fuck out of me."

Cameron relaxed slightly, but the bitter taste of what Jake had said still lingered in his mouth.

"I need you take me off the Vicodin. Immediately. I don't want anymore. I don't want anymore ever."

He blinked in surprise. His brother had a way of jumping from one thought to another, not at all unlike their mother. "I-I can start taking you off it, but it's not going to be immediate. You've become accustomed to it. You need twice the dosage now that you did when you started, and you take it more frequently than you did when I first prescribed it-"

"Cam." Jake's voice was rusty but firm. "I don't want to be weaned off it or shit. I don't want them anymore, period. I had the bottle on me when I passed out, so it's probably among my effects. Take it. Half the pills are still left in it. Take them. I don't want that kind of treatment anymore."

He didn't know the chemistry behind what he was saying. "Jake, if I take you off them cold turkey, you'll go into detox. Your headaches will come back, for sure, but on top of that you'll have to deal with vomiting and nausea and dizziness and chills and countless other symptoms."

Cameron shifted on the edge of the bed. "Look. My roommate at Hopkins – great guy, brilliant guy. Got addicted to Hydrocodone. When we confronted him and staged an intervention, he bet us that he could go a whole week without pills and that if he won, we'd get off his back. If he freaked out, he'd take a leave of absence and check himself into rehab."

"Let me guess – there's a moral to this story hiding around here somewhere."

He leveled him with a stern look. "The guy slammed his hand in a car door."

"So the guy was an idiot."

"No."

"My fault – uncoordinated."

"He was in such pain from the detoxing that he created more intense pain in another part of his body," Cameron answered seriously. "The brain can only deal with one kind of pain – like that – at once. It focused on the broken bones and splintering in his hand. He didn't want to go to the hospital for it so me and another guy patched him up. He was laughing when we did it – said he felt much better now as he sat there getting his fucking hand put back together. That's how bad the pain is."

"He was addicted," Jake shot back. "I'm not. I'm not," he added when Cameron arched a brow. "I've built up some tolerance, sure. That's true of antibiotics. But I'm not addicted. Take me off the pills."

"But-"

"Look, take me off them cold turkey," he said, holding up his hands. "Don't worry about it. I'm not going to detox. And if I do, it'll be very, very mild. Like I have a fucking stomach flu or something. I'll be fine, Cam."

"But I-"

"Do what you want," Jake interrupted, folding his arms over his chest. "But I'm not taking any more. Your call."

"It's _your_ call," his brother grumbled. "You don't rest until it is."

"Well?"

"...Fine. We'll take you off the pills. I'll cancel your prescription. But, Jake, please, listen to me. Just to be safe, just to make sure you're okay and you stay that way...check yourself into rehab."

Jake's expression softened, and he looked at his brother almost pityingly. "You know I can't do that."

"Why not?" Cameron burst out, leaping to his feet. "Why the hell not? Because of the business? Because of your associates? Fuck the business, fuck your associates! This is about _you_, this is about _you_ being o-"

"It's never just about me," Jake interrupted quietly. "Like you said, if I'd offed myself, it wouldn't be just about me getting away from this. It'd effect all of you. If I go to rehab, word will get out. It doesn't matter how careful you are, Cameron, or how many threats I make, or how many red herrings Moll scatters. Word will get out. You know how things are in the business. Going to the doctor for a routine check-up certifies you as a pussy. If I check myself into rehab at General Hospital, I'm just begging one of those fuckers to off me and take my territories."

"Then use a private doctor," he said, throwing his hands up. "All of you guys have your private doctors that handle gunshot wounds and all that shit so that the police don't have to know about it. Set up individual rehab, do it at home, make it so-"

"I can't do that," Jake interrupted again. "Someone will talk. Someone always talks. It's fine to have a private doctor around for physicals and to set broken bones and recommend cough syrups. No one gives a shit about that because it's private and the records are kept private. But rehab? Admitting physiological dependence on a certain substance? Fuck, no. That'll get me shot.

"Why do you think Sonny never sought treatment during his life?" he asked. "There was a time when he was a raging alcoholic. He never went to rehab. He never attended AA meetings. He did it at home the old-fashioned way. Quietly. By himself. Secretly. By just filling his liquor bottles with colored water and keeping the real stuff only for company so that no one knew the difference. Morgan says that it was hell to be around him sometimes when he really wanted a drink. He's still not fine, he's still not completely off the wagon. Every day he fights it and has a hell of a time doing it. But he knew what I'm talking about: if he sought treatment for it, even privately, that would have been the end."

Cameron sighed and sat down on the bed once more. A long moment passed before he spoke. "Fuck it. Start something new. Admit you have a problem and seek help. Be the first. Come back stronger than ever, make it a point to illustrate that there's _nothing_ wrong with getting-"

"I can't do that."

* * *

**.: Hallway :.**

"You going home?"

Amalia nodded. "Yeah. I saw him again with Morgan just now, dodged my mom, ignored my dad's calls when he found out that I was home instead of with Aunt Claudie, and now it's time for me to get back to Crimson Manor and check in."

"What are you going to tell them?" Molly asked. "About why you-"

"I'm going to say that...Jake was upset about his parents and that Morgan was worried he'd do something stupid, so I went to his place and we all just hung out for a bit, no distractions." She shrugged and picked up her purse. "It's a half-truth. It'll work. My dad can tell when I'm totally lying, but not when I'm half-lying."

Her best friend managed a half-smile. "Luck. I'll talk to you later."

Amalia nodded and wrapped her arms around her, giving her a tight hug. "You hang in there, too. Cam told me about what you told Jake. I get why you had to do it. Call me later, okay? I'll be at the manor until the end of the week, then I'll probably come back to the house. Bye."

"Bye." Molly watched her walk away and sighed, trailing her fingers over the edge of her laptop. Instead of opening it, she tucked it under her arm and headed down the hall in the opposite direction, thinking she might at least get some rest in the Immunology lounge.

Edward Quartermaine watched all of this from around the corner. He had ducked into an empty room when Amalia walked by, but he heard enough of their exchange to be highly suspicious. After making sure both women were gone and that the Webber boy wasn't around before heading down the corridor that Amalia had come from.

He looked in one room after another, finding that he was relieved to see strange patients but at the same time made even more frantic to learn what the girls had been talking about, if it were true. Finally, he came to the right door, and Edward's hand rested on the handle as he looked inside, watching Jake sleep.

Carefully, quietly, he opened the door and let himself in, taking great care to shut it quietly. He knew that Jake was a light sleeper and that he never got enough sleep as it was, a contributing factor to those debilitating headaches his grandson frequently suffered from. Edward had once tried recommending acupuncture, which had done wonders for his arthritis and a persistent back problem, but Jake had curtly informed him that he was being treated and then said nothing more on the matter. But Edward had seen the pills, done some snooping and found the prescription. He knew what his grandson was taking and in the back of his mind, he always knew that it might land him right here.

Jake was sleeping, but he didn't look peaceful. There was tension in the set of his shoulders, the way he held his mouth, the way his hands were laced together over his stomach. No, the boy might have been sleeping, but he certainly wasn't getting any rest. Edward had a feeling he'd wake up even more exhausted than he was when he first lay down.

He folded his hands at his waist, standing at the foot of the bed, and just looked at the boy. It was truly remarkable how much Jake resembled his grandson. If he was a more sentimental man, Edward would have called it a miracle. He'd given up all hope of Jason having children and passing down Lila's beautiful eyes. He'd lived with that dejection for years, decades, and all along, his heir was living in a cheery subdivision on Cherry Blossom Lane, growing up with his other great-grandson.

It brought tears to Edward's eyes sometimes, how lucky he was to have found out about his newest grandson before the time of his death. Those were the times that he looked derisively upon Jason; if it were up to his grandson, Edward would never have known the truth. But those moods passed soon enough.

Jason had once told him that ELQ meetings were much more interesting now than they ever had been before. When Edward asked why, he said that it was really something to see him and Jake working together in the same room. They'd both come to the meetings full of ideas and opinions, and when they agreed they'd fight anyone who didn't until they had their way. When the two of them disagreed with each other, they'd retreat to their corners for the rest of the meeting and sulk, each thinking the other to be more stubborn than himself, and when some other board member who was far too obliging for his own good – usually Spencer, who found this old childhood habit of his a tough one to break – said something that both of them disagreed with, they'd find themselves arguing again but this time on the same side, and past disagreements would be forgotten.

Edward had gotten a good laugh out of that one, and found it terribly amusing that while he was almost obsessed with the idea of how much Jake was like Jason, Jason was giving much thought and credence to the idea that Jake was just like Edward.

His great-grandson shifted in bed, and Edward just watched. Jake squirmed, the corner of his mouth twisting downward, and suddenly jolted up in his bed with a gasp, choking on air as a light sweat broke out over his skin. He gaped at him when he saw him, and began to sweat more.

Edward just shook his head as Jake held himself stiff and taught. "Don't worry."

His voice was gruff and soft, and Jake inched back down.

"Don't worry. I've been here before."

Cold blue eyes met his, suspicious and cautious and just a little afraid. Edward's expression remained gentle.

"I've been here before, right where you are, when I found myself addicted to something unfavorable. So has your grandfather, Alan. So has your father at one time or another, I always supposed, although he'd never admit to it."

He cleared his throat and raised his chin, realizing that in a highly peculiar way, he was succeeding in almost putting Jake at ease. Somewhat.

"Don't you worry. This is our secret, because I will never breathe a word of it, as long as you get better." He tilted his head to the side, a vague, useless sort of sadness coming over him just then. "Rest, my boy."

* * *

**.: Immunology Lounge :.**

"You're sure?"

"I'm absolutely positive," Cameron replied, and there was no mistaking the relief in his voice as he poured her another cup of green tea. Molly went through her phases where she was a health nut, and right now she was really into teas and Chinese herbs. He'd been scanning the literature on those substances because he knew that with certain preexisting conditions, those herbs could lead to toxicity, and he made sure Molly knew which ones she could safely take and which ones she'd better stay away from.

"There's no way to fudge a tox screen," he continued, handing her the cup and taking a seat in the recliner next to her. "We ran it on exactly what came out of him when I admitted him."

"Does the charcoal alter the results in any-"

"No." He shook his head. "It's pumped into the stomach to soak up the toxins but it's removed before the tox screen. The results weren't altered. And, um..." He shifted in his seat. "I had my other fellow run it again, just to be sure."

"Lia was right," Molly mused, curling her legs up under herself. "She said it. She said that he wouldn't have more than two pills and a glass of whiskey in him."

"He had less than that," Cameron pointed out. "He could have barely gotten half a glass down. There was a lot spilled around him when we found him."

"He didn't lie to her."

"No, he didn't." He rested his head against the cushion, closing his eyes. "Thank God."

Molly curled up with her tea and smiled, but her expression was still weary and troubled. "I know."

"I'm so glad he didn't try to...I don't know what I would have done if he did, how I would have told Mom or..."

"Don't think about that," she soothed. "Don't. There's no need. He's alive and he's going to be fine. And he begged off the pills. I think...I think Lia must have gotten through to him. He's making those drastic changes."

"_You_ got through to him," Cameron added. "He told me that you were absolutely right, that when you were talking he realized that he was back at that place where he let Mom and Jason's decisions from almost thirty years ago run his life. Ruin his life. And that scared him. You got through to him, too, Moll. He listens to you more than you think he does."

"Well, I don't know, I think it was-"

"You don't give yourself enough credit," Cameron snorted, but he was smiling. "That's always been your problem."

"Ah, yes, if ever I need a lecture on my problems, I'll come to you."

He laughed and reached over, picking up her mug and taking a small sip. "You know what I realized? About myself, I mean?"

"What?"

Cameron looked at her, his brown eyes shining with a mixture of love and self-deprecation. "I will always enable my brother. I will always try to give him whatever he needs. I like to think that I'll be able to stop myself if he's on the path to doing something really stupid, but...I will always give in to Jake if he needs me to."

"It's understandable," she finally said. "You take responsibility for him. Or you want to. You want to be the one that fixes things for him. You've done it since you guys were kids."

He snorted at that. "No. We used to fight all the time when we were kids. He'd always steal my stuff and I'd always hit him. I gave him a black eye that one time that he stole the car when it was my night to have it and Sally Moseley was waiting at her place for me to pick her up and take her to dinner."

"Sally Moseley was a skank," Molly said, crinkling her nose. "I never got what you saw in her."

"She was nice!"

"Sally 'bury me in a Y-shaped coffin' Moseley?" She snorted and looked away, but he knew she was trying not to smile. "If you say so."

She drummed her fingers on her knee as the moment passed. "But seriously, you guys have always been that way. Even when he caused you to miss your date with Slutty Sally."

"Oh, that was _not_ her nickname. You're just making things up."

"Cam, listen to me." Molly took her mug back and met his gaze directly. "I've always thought...well, I've always thought that you were the closest thing to a father that Jake had."

His lips parted in surprise, and a moment passed before he could speak. "That's a lot to put on a guy."

"I'm serious," she insisted. "Jake always looked up to you. He always defended you if anyone ragged on you. When you were away for school, he would tell anyone that asked that you were going to be a doctor, that you were doing very well and you'd be very successful. He _always_ looked up to you, he was always so proud of you. And you always took care of him, and he relied on you for that. It'd be pretty unreasonable to think that you should be able to back away and leave him all alone now, after two decades of looking out for him."

"But what about helping him help himself?"

"We can't all do that the same way," Molly replied quietly. "I was wrong. I'll have to help him help himself by staying away, but if you did the same...he wouldn't be able to deal with that. It would probably make things much worse. Cam, you will _always_ be there for Jake. It's just the way you are."

He quirked a brow at her, knowing that she loved Jake almost as much as he did. "And you're not?"

"...I don't know that I can be."

* * *

**.: Hub, Immunology Wing :.**

"I'm going to go check on him in a minute," Cameron was saying as he scribbled some notes on a chart. He glanced at Edward Quartermaine, who had been suspiciously milling around for the last twenty minutes but was thankfully out of ear shot. The man quite simply just made him nervous sometimes. "It's been an hour since Morgan left and he's been alone since, I think I'll drop in and see how he's doing."

Molly was nodding as she clicked away on her laptop, and neither of them noticed Elizabeth until she was next to them.

"Hey, you two," she smiled, setting her binders down on the counter. "Going to check up on who? I thought you didn't have any cases right now after you patched up that pig farmer."

Cameron and Molly looked at each other, too stunned to think quickly. "Uh..."

They heard someone clear his voice and when Cameron turned, he saw Edward heading toward them with a large, phony smile.

"Elizabeth, my dear," he made a show of saying, sweeping his arm around the younger woman without actually touching her at the risk of making her nervous. "I've been looking for you. Can I have a moment of your time, I wonder?"

"Um..." Elizabeth looked at Cameron and Molly, both of whom wisely kept their mouths shut, and nodded. "Yes, of course, Edward."

He'd finally gotten her to call him by his first name, and the old man smiled. "Excellent. I was hoping to touch base with you about the nurses in your department. At General Hospital, we firmly believe in working with our employees to..."

Edward continued to blather on, something about the union and making sure that the nurses were doing okay with hours and compensation and benefits and that the board had been considering increasing the percentage it kicked into retirement funds, and Cameron almost let out a sigh of relief until the old man looked over his shoulder and met his gaze directly, and Cameron knew – just _knew_ – that Edward was aware of what had happened with Jake.

He shook off the feeling as his mother and the old man disappeared around the corner, and flashed Molly a tight smile. "I'm gonna go check on him while I can. Unless you, uh, wanna go in first?"

She shook her head. "No. You go."

There was no point in arguing with her, so Cameron headed down the hallway and, after making sure, no one else was around, entered his brother's room.

"Hey."

Jake looked up from a file in his hands and Cameron saw that he was wearing his reading glasses. He only wore those when he felt the onset of a headache and knew it would affect his eyesight adversely. "Hey."

"How you feeling?"

"Good," he replied honestly. "Head's a little fuzzy, but it'll pass. I was bored for a while there but Morgan dropped off some work, so I'm fine now."

He was one of the few people Cameron had ever met that were actually _happy_ to have some work available. He made quick work of checking Jake's vitals, more out of habit than necessity since the nurse had just been in, and then sat down on the chair next to the bed.

Jake looked at him curiously. "...Maybe it's my turn to ask how you're feeling."

"Edward knows." He tipped his chin toward the bed. "That you're here, I mean."

"I know," Jake replied uneasily. "He was here."

"With you?" Cameron's eyes widened. "What happened? Why didn't you page me or a nurse? We would have gotten him out of there if he was upsetting you."

"He wasn't upsetting me," Jake assured him. "He...It was pretty weird. He was just kind of standing there, watching me. And then he told me that everything would be all right and that he wouldn't say a word if I made sure I got better. Then he told me to rest and he left."

"He saved your ass out there just now," Cameron admitted. "Mom came to Immunology to talk to me and Moll. Edward got her out of there with some bullshit speech about wanting to hear about the nurses' concerns."

He shifted uneasily in the chair. "Listen, you don't – you don't think that he's going to use this as leverage in any way, do you? I mean, I've heard the stories about him. I know he's your grandfather, but he's kind of..."

"A bastard son of a bitch?" Jake grinned. "Yeah, I know. But I don't think he will. I think he meant it. He said – he said he'd been here once. He didn't say for what – pills or booze or what else. He said that Alan had been here, too. I remember Mom saying that Alan was once addicted to painkillers before she came to town. And he said – he said that he always thought Jason was here at one point or another even though he didn't know for sure."

"You come from a long line of them," Cameron drawled, making his brother grin again. "Man, your life just gets better and better."

Jake smiled and set down the file. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, but left them sitting on the blanket. Cameron watched him, troubling his lower lip, and finally asked the question that had been on his mind for a while.

"How are you doing with...the rest of the stuff?"

"I'm better," Jake replied honestly. "With the Mom and Jason stuff. At least, I think I am. I think I'm getting there. But I need..."

Cameron jumped on that. "What do you need?"

"I need..." He winced and looked over at him. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"...Can you ask Mal if he can schedule an appointment with me?"

* * *

**.: Hallway :.**

There was a noticeable spring in Dr. Malcolm Drake's step as he headed to the Immunology wing. He grinned at Cameron as he passed him, and his old friend smiled back.

"It finally happened, dude."

"I know. Good luck in there."

Mal knocked twice on Jake's door before walking right in, his leather file folder securely under his arm. It was what he used to take notes in remote sessions when he wasn't using his recorder. He knew that recordings made Jake nervous and had instead opted to go the old fashioned route with pen and paper.

"Hey." He closed the door and walked over to the chair next to the bed. Jake was sitting up in bed with a few files sitting on the night stand. He looked well, and Mal was encouraged. "Cam said you wanted to see me. You know I can always work you in."

Jake nodded once. "I appreciate it. I just...I needed help and figured you were the best person to talk to."

Mal did his absolute best to tamp down his relief and excitement. He'd been trying to set up sessions with Jake for years but to no avail. And now, finally, his old friend had made the first move and submitted himself to receiving counseling. This was a huge step for both of them, and Mal knew there was no way in hell that he'd fail Jake. He'd come a long way, and he was finally going to get help in ridding himself of his demons.

"You can always talk to me. We've always talked, since we were kids. I'll try to help you the best I can, you know that."

"I do," he affirmed. "I know I'm lucky to have you around. God, I don't even know how to say this..."

"Take your time. We're in no rush here. We'll go at your pace, every time."

"...I can't keep living this way," Jake finally admitted. "I can't. It's hurting me, it's hurting the people I care about. Morgan didn't say much about it but I knew he felt guilty for falling asleep and letting me get into the liquor I kept hidden in the shelf. And it took me twenty minutes to explain to him that he had nothing to do with it, that half the time he was there in my parlor, I didn't even know it. I would have done what I wanted whether he was there or not, and there would have been nothing he could have done to stop me. And I think that freaked us both out."

He nervously twiddled his fingers together. "And Cam. He doesn't deserve this shit. He's got enough going on in his life. We're not kids anymore, he shouldn't be wasting his effort and energy taking care of me. He's such a smart guy, so good at what he does. He could be even better if he wasn't dividing up his energy trying to watch out for me all the time. I can't hold him back this way. I can't do that to him."

"Cameron's never once thought that you were holding him back."

"It doesn't matter what he thinks," Jake snorted. "He's biased. He's my big brother, he'll always think it's his job to take care of me. And he'll be happy to do it, too, but that doesn't change anything. He shouldn't have to.

"And Moll. She's worked for me for years, always backing me up, always finding what I needed, always making things work for me. She's never said anything no matter what shit I tried to pull. Even if she disagreed, she'd wait until we were alone to call me on it. She never embarrassed me in front of anyone, she never drew unwanted attention, she did her best to keep everyone in line and keep the whole machine working smoothly. I work her really hard. There's so much that she's responsible for, it's got to be hard enough for her without all my shit added to that. I tried real hard from the start to just keep things limited to work business and not dump my personal stuff on her, but Moll...she's a lot like Cameron. She feels deeply when it comes to any of us. She cares about us, so she'll bleed for us if she has to. And I can't take any more from her than I already have. I have to get my shit together if I want to keep her. I'm not above admitting it: everything would collapse if Moll wasn't around."

"Have you told her that?"

"No." He rubbed his eyes wearily. "I probably should have. Then I probably wouldn't be in this mess. But...I've never been good at that. I like to think that people already know how I feel about them, like they can read my mind and just know. But that's unreasonable."

Jake let out a laugh. "And Lia. Holy fuck, she was mad."

Even Mal chuckled at that. "You know, I can't picture her being mad at you when you're sick."

"Oh, no." He shook his head emphatically. "She was _pissed_. She even hit me."

His jaw dropped. "Shit, you're making that up."

"Wanna see the bruise?" Jake bared his arm and sure enough, there was a faint mark that would soon grow darker.

Mal sat back, astonished. "I don't believe it. She _hit_ you."

"I know! I think I had it coming, though." He rubbed his arm absently. "She said that if this was how things were going to be, if I was going to go off the deep end every time something my mom or Jason did upset me, she was done. She'd walk away without another thought."

Sober now, Mal tapped his pen against his chin. "And what did you think?"

Really, that was such a better question than the stale _and how did that make you feel?_

"Did you take her seriously?"

"Of course," Jake snorted. "She was dead serious. I knew she meant it. Amalia puts up with a lot of my bullshit, but she'd never put up with something like this. And I guess she'd be right. Because if I had actually attempted to kill myself, it would have been the most selfish thing I could have done. And Lia – when she's invested in someone and knows that they're – that they're – invested in her, she doesn't tolerate that kind of selfishness."

"So what did you do?"

"I told her the truth, that I hadn't tried to kill myself. I just lost track of time." He chuckled to himself. "I know, it's such a mundane way to excuse an almost-overdose. But I did. I had the worst headache. I couldn't even see straight. So I took a pill. And then I just sat there and stared out the window. I thought four hours had passed, easy."

"How long had it really been?"

"Forty-five minutes." Jake nodded when Mal winced. "Yeah. I know. I thought for sure several hours had passed. My headache didn't go away. Sometimes they don't. So I took another pill. Then my mouth went dry. I didn't feel like drinking water. I know I should because I take the Vicodin, but I didn't feel like it. I keep a good bottle of whiskey and an aged single malt in the bookshelf, so I pulled it out. Poured out a glass. Downed most of it, I think, and then I couldn't breathe. Then I think I fell, and when I hit the floor, I threw up. Everything after that got fuzzy. I don't remember anything until I woke up here."

"What did Amalia say?"

"She believed me." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "She always believes me."

"Cam says it's because she says you've never lied to her."

"I never have," Jake affirmed. "There are things I haven't told her, but I've never once lied to her."

"That means a lot to a woman like Lia," Mal prodded.

He took the bait. "Yeah, it does. But it doesn't mean I'm off the hook. She said I better make drastic changes."

"Meaning?"

"I gave up the pills."

Mal nodded sagely. "I'd heard something about that."

"I don't want them anymore. Not after seeing how easy it would be – how mindlessly easy it would be – for me to just take too many and get away from this. I'm going to seek alternative treatment for my headaches. No more pills."

"It's a drastic change."

"Not really," he demurred. "It would have been if I took one pill every day, if I was some kind of addict. I averaged two a week, sometimes only one. Cam thinks I'll detox. He's probably right, but I doubt it'll be anything more than nausea and dizziness for a bit before I come out of it. I can handle that. Or I can fake handling that."

Mal couldn't resist commenting on his need to fake handling things, but Jake was still talking. "Lie about it? You feel the need to lie about getting better until you get better?"

"I'm a good liar," Jake shrugged, smiling. "Helps me better get at the truth."

"Even the truth you lie to yourself about?"

His gaze was clear and direct. "Especially those."

Mal held his gaze for a long moment and finally moved on. "So about these drastic changes..."

"I've got to change," he said simply. "I can't keep living this way. I can't let every little thing set me off. I can't do it. My parents made choices. I don't have to agree with them. I _don't_ agree with them. They made stupid, stupid choices once about my life that I had no control over. If I let those choices hurt my life now, now when I have control, their stupid choices will hurt me twice. And it'll be my fault."

He bit his lip, his eyes narrowing. "And those stupid choices – theirs and mine – will hurt only me and the people I care about. Lia's right. If I'm going to – if I want – if she's going to be..." He let out a short breath, frustrated with his inability to say what he wanted. "I can't let this destroy the relationships I have with the people I want to be in my life for a long time to come."

Mal could only nod.

"That's why I asked you to meet with me," Jake stated plainly. "I need your help if I'm going to do that."

He opened his notebook and put pen to paper, jotting down the date. This was where the real work began, this was where the rest of Jake's life began. "And I'm committed to helping you in any way I can."

Jake sucked in a deep breath. "I need you to help me figure out some way to disconnect from all this."

Mal's lips parted in surprise, and he was sure he heard wrong. "...What?"

"I have to find a way to just block all this out," he said, his words coming out one after another in his haste to express himself, to purge himself. "I've got to find a way not to let what they do or what they've done affect me. It's the only way for me to – I've just got to disconnect from all of it, so that nothing they do can bother me, nothing they do can affect me. If I can just figure out a way to do that, I'll be fine."

Mal's notebook fell to his lap, and the hand holding his pen sat slack on the armrest.


	57. I'm On Your Side

**Note: **Nothing much to say at the moment. Enjoy, or not.

_When you're weary,_

_Feeling small,_

_When tears are in your eyes_

_I will dry them all._

_I'm on your side_

_When times get rough._

-- "Bridge Over Troubled Water," Simon and Garfunkel

**.: Loading Dock, General Hospital :.**

Roger Crane had officially been discharged.

Roger Crane, of course, was none other than Jacob Webber, who couldn't very well be admitted into any hospital under his real name. The alias was culled from the two most recent books Cameron had read, and now the doctor accompanied his brother to the loading dock where GH received its supplies. It was an out of the way corner of the hospital and Jake had his men stationed right outside, ready to whisk him back to Morgan Manor without anyone – most importantly, his mother – having been the wiser.

"I can come over after my shift ends, if you want," Cameron offered as Jake tugged on the sleeves of his suit jacket, tugging it into place. "We could get some dinner – I can pick up ribs, and we can-"

Jake smiled and shook his head. "Hang out with Moll instead. I've been keeping you from her long enough. And the other way around. I'll be fine, Cam, really. I've got too much work to do, anyway. Can't expect Chase and Penn to handle it all indefinitely..."

The mention of his top guards put Cameron at ease somewhat. "They're at the manor?"

He nodded. "Yeah. They usually are, especially when they're running things for me."

That was good, Cameron decided. Chase and Penn were two of the most dependable, objective men he'd ever met. They followed Jake's orders to the letter but also watched out for him personally and knew how to handle him. They were good employees and even better friends, and as long as they were at least around the house, Jake would be fine.

"I know what you're thinking." Jake adjusted his collar and darted quick glances along the hallway as they headed toward the exit. "Don't worry. I'll be just fine. You won't see me around here again."

"God, I hope not." He pushed open the door and poked his head out. "There. I see Chase. Listen, I'll call you tonight and probably see you over the weekend. Let me know if you need anything."

"One more thing." Jake grabbed his brother's arm as Cameron attempted to usher him out the door. "Cam, I need you to know something."

His confusion was evident. "What?"

"I'm not going to do this again."

"Well, you didn't do it this time," Cameron shrugged, still not following. "I mean-"

"No." He shook his head, effectively cutting him off. "I'm not going to put you in this kind of position again."

"...What kind of...?"

"Where you feel like you have to help me," Jake said plainly. "I know I put you in tough spots all the time. Have since we were kids. And I want you to know that I'm going to do my best not to do that to you anymore."

"Jake, I never felt like I _had_ to help you." Cameron rolled his shoulders, trying to find the right words. "You're my brother. I'm always going to _want_ to help you."

"And I guess what I'm saying is that I'm going to do my best not to take advantage of that," he smiled back. "Have fun with Moll."

"I will. Have a good night. Hey." Cameron called out to him as Jake walked toward the car where Chase was waiting for him. "You, uh, you gonna stop by and see Mom or Jason anytime soon?"

Jake swallowed roughly. "...I don't think so. Not tonight."

* * *

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

Jason walked into the bar and quickly scanned the room, finding most of the regulars and a small, mixed group of PCU students. It had been the first time he'd been there all week, and Coleman and a couple of dock workers that had retained their positions under the new regime, looked at him strangely when he made his way over to the counter.

He knew why. It had been three days since his fight with Jake, and the bruise on his eye was a nice, dark shade of purple and certain to garner attention.

Jason didn't care, though. Bruises and scars had never bothered him in the past, and this one didn't either. He understood why Jake had hit him. Elizabeth had freaked out, but Jason understood. He couldn't even imagine what seeing that house did to the boy, didn't even have to in order to know that it cut him deeply. The look on Jake's face when he came out the front door...well, Jason imagined it had been a dead ringer for the look on his face when Jake first found out the truth more than twenty years ago.

And that was why Jason wore his black eye with pride. He didn't care that he received strange looks, that he caused people to do a double take, that most of them were likely wondering just who had given him a black eye and presumably lived to tell about it. None of it mattered. None of it worried him. Because the day Jake looked at him and displayed nothing – no emotion, no anger, just flat, vacant, barren nothing – _that _would worry him.

He snatched his beer up from the counter and headed over to his favorite booth in back. Max and Milo would be along later, so at least he'd get to see them. It had been a while, and he had the feeling that they were avoiding him after hearing what had happened at the safe house with Jake. They knew that if they all met up, they'd see the evidence and they'd either feel like they had to ask just to get it out of the way, or they'd try to skirt around it and it would be just as awkward.

He heard giggling from the door and looked up to see Anna and Cecily, Robin and Carly's daughters (damn, but it was strange to see them together considering who their mothers were), walk into the bar. Anna had switched her normally prim and buttoned down university look for a pair of jeans and a lacy camisole, and he watched her eyes widen when she saw the group of kids from PCU, presumably her students. Cecily almost stumbled when Anna grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the bar, and the women left to presumably find a less student-friendly place to drink and shoot pool.

Jason took another pull from his bottle, slowly looking around the bar again. Jake's had stayed pretty much the same since he'd first discovered it, little hole in the wall dive it was, despite having changed hands about three times, and for that he was glad. Coleman did a good job keeping it running. He made renovations and kept it up to code, but more importantly, he kept it true to how old Jake ran the place when she was alive.

He remembered her well. She'd probably get a kick out of the fact that his son was named after her and her old bar.

So lost was Jason in his thoughts that he didn't even realize that Jake had entered the bar he was named after until the young man slid into his booth, slapping his hand lightly against the table to get his attention.

He looked up in surprise, and Jake didn't miss a beat. He didn't make eye contact as he slid a little closer, so that Jason alone could hear him.

"Thought I'd find you here. I wanted to tell you something." After a moment's pause, his eyes darted to Jason's cheek, but no higher, and he could practically see him hesitate. "You should have that looked at."

Unconsciously, Jason fingered the bruise. "It's fine. It'll get better on its own."

His son clicked his fingers on the table, looking equal parts agitated and nervous. "I've decided to sell the safe house property. It's obvious that you and my mother no longer have any use for it."

His brows furrowed. "...We haven't used that property since...since you were a kid. It was a complete coincidence that-"

"I know." Jake was looking at Anna's students, several of whom were just lousy at pool. "I did the math. Albeit, belatedly, but still."

Jason had no idea what he meant by that.

"No one's been on the property in years. Speaking of which, we had already lost part of it."

"What are you talking about?"

"The neighbors on the next lot built some kind of farmhouse or warehouse facility for storage, I'm guessing. It's on a good part of our property and according to the reports was built more than a decade ago. According to Morgan, we've lost that part of the property to the neighbors.

"I was originally going to destroy it," he said lightly, folding his fingers together on top of the table. He had yet to look at him. "But that was an extremely rash thought and the second I stopped to think about it, I decided against it. The land is valuable. It's right near where they're talking about building the new highway overpass for our rural communities up there. If we wait it out, it'll fetch a good price when the state commissioner's office realizes they have to build on it and buy out the owners to do so. There's, uh, there's been some damage done to the property since."

"I saw," Jason murmured, remembering the shattered window and Elizabeth's broken easel on the front lawn.

"Molly started restoration projects that day, and I'm finishing them out."

Coleman had caught Jake's eye and when the bar tender lifted up a bottle of beer, Jake shook his head. Coleman set it down and lifted up a bottle of scotch, and Jake shook his head. He set it down and lifted up a bottle of whiskey, and Jake shook his head again. Finally, he set that down and lifted up a box of rat poison.

Jason watched his son flip him off before returning to the conversation.

"All of your personal property on the premises will be returned to you within the next two business days," he stated, sounding automatic. "Your books, personal grooming items, kitchen ware, and clothing. Basically, anything that's not bolted down. You can have the furniture if you want."

Jason shook his head. "Don't need it."

"Good. I was thinking of giving it away to the Salvation Army with the company's annual donation." He cleared his throat gruffly and twiddled his thumbs. "The paintings in the house – I'm having them shipped out for reframing. They will be returned to my mother's house as soon as they're done. With one exception: the one hanging above the bed. I like it and I'm keeping it."

Jason frowned to himself, trying to remember what painting they'd hung above the bed in the old safe house. It had been such a long time ago...

Jake didn't bother helping him out. "I don't recommend swinging by the property again. I'm having surveyors and cleaning crews come by all this week. If you have anything specific stored on the property that you need back, you can leave me a message or an email and I'll make sure it's returned immediately. Everything else, like I said, should be delivered within two business days with the exception of my mother's paintings."

Jason opened his mouth, not knowing entirely what he was going to say, but unable all the same to let the conversation end this way. Jake hadn't looked at him and didn't see this, and started edging toward the end of the booth.

He stood and adjusted his suit jacket, tugging on it awkwardly. His eyes darted to Jason's and the corner of his mouth curved downward. "I'm sorry for that."

Jason tilted his head to the side. "For what?"

Jake didn't elaborate much, but his remark was telling in itself. "For the safe house. It must have been a terrible way to co-exist. Or to not co-exist."

He knew all too well what his son was getting at, and it was an almost generous concession. Living in the safe house with Elizabeth to distract himself from the fact that he could never live with her anywhere outside of it, that he could never share a life with her the way he stole a semblance of a life with her there.

"You should really have that looked at."

Jason's eyes were distant, his expression approaching doleful "It'll be fine."

"Okay." He nodded once, let out a slow breath, and finally turned on his heel and walked out of the bar.

* * *

**.: Master Bedroom, Morgan Manor :.**

"Ew."

Jake laughed. "What's so 'ew' about it? What could possibly be 'ew' about that?"

Amalia crinkled her nose as they stared at the painting that now hung above his bed. "_Because_...it used to hang above _their_ bed. Gross."

"Oh, come on," he chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "It's beautiful. I don't know what the hell it's supposed to be, but it's beautiful. I can't believe Mom actually painted this. Look at how many different shades of blue there are."

"I like the red and the yellow," she finally said, tracing her finger in the air over the vivid streaks. "It's all so blurred, like you're just whizzing past it and you know you can't stop, but you feel like you might have wanted to. What does that say? Right in the middle?"

"No clue," Jake shrugged. "Looks kind of like an A, doesn't it?"

"A long word that starts with A," she affirmed. "You can tell by the way it trails off, it's a long word. Angel's something or other."

"There's got to be at least fifty different shades of blue there, don't you think?"

"Do you know what it's called?"

Jake shook his head. "No idea. Mom didn't put any name on the back or the front. Just her name. Why?" He looked down at her, his eyes lingering on her soft profile. "What would you call it?"

"I don't know," Amalia shrugged. "It's certainly not a fair question. I've never seen this painting before now. I sure didn't paint it, I don't know anything about it in terms of time period or location, or even what it's supposed to be. All I know is that it used to hang above the bed where your parents had s-"

"Low blow," he muttered, jostling her with his hip and causing her to lose her balance and stumble a little. "It's gotta have a name, though, right? You're an artist. Right? Doesn't it have to have a name?"

"I'm not an artist," she disagreed. "If I'm anything at all, it's a musician."

"It's analogous," Jake argued. "When you compose something, don't you give it a title? Have you ever spent time working on something and finished it and then just not named it? Left it blank?"

"No," Amalia allowed. "I don't think I have. Sometimes naming it is the best part."

"So what do you think this one's called? Or should be called?"

"How about..." She tilted her head to the side and finally looked up at him. "_A Moment Passed_? Or _A Moment Past_? Technically, both are grammatically correct..."

"How about...just _The Past,_" he said after a while. "Or..._The Passed_. You know, 'cause it looks like you're just blowing past these buildings, and the wind's blurring your view of them."

"_The Past._" Amalia nodded once. "That'll do. Even though it's still gross."

Jake burst out laughing. "Oh, come _on_, it's not gross. It's funny."

"It's the painting that used to hang over your parents' bed." She arched a brow humorlessly at him. "And now it's hanging over _your_ bed. Freud would have a field day with you, you know that?"

"Freud was a narrow-minded, infirm son of a bitch with a fake jaw and constipation problems," Jake grumbled. "The only thing he ever got right was his stuff on dreams. This is – is – it's ironic. That's the best word for it. It's a nice painting that used to hang over one bed and now hangs over another. It's _ironic_. It's placement here is _ironic_."

"It's disgusting and creepy and offends me on no less than three levels."

"It's staying."

Amalia rolled her eyes. "You're sick."

He smiled down at her, his expression smug and knowing and just a little teasing. "You love me anyway."

She didn't look at him, instead smiling up at _The Wind_, and the faintest blush stole across her cheeks.

* * *

**.: Office, Corinthos-Webber Warehouse :.**

He felt like shit.

There was a problem with the shipments that had snowballed out of control, which meant that he, Chase, and Penn had been working overtime to halt all the shipments, plan new routes, call in last-minute favors, run security checks on all the routes, and get things packaged and sent out as fast as they could. He hadn't slept in the past two days, he hadn't eaten in more than twenty-hours, and he was so close to being done and being able to go home that he could almost _taste _it.

And to make matters worse, his mother was here.

His mother, who worried constantly about danger and mob activities, was sitting at his massive conference table on the fifth floor of a warehouse known by all to be used expressly and singularly for mob activities. He probably would have choked on the hypocrisy even though he was hungry enough to devour just about anything at this point.

She'd been here for the past half hour, talking about the run-in at the safe house and impeding his progress. All Jake wanted was to finish up in the conference room, drop the schedules and routes with the second-tier guards, and go home. He'd have three entrees from Kelly's or Eli's delivered to him, he'd pull out his six-pack of cold beer, and he'd change into his sweatpants and watch the game he'd TiVo'd the day before.

That is, if his mother ever let him out of this office.

"Jake, you just can't _do_ that."

He tried not to let out a frustrated breath as he reached for the file sitting right under her hand. He pulled it out and flipped it open, making sure that the storage lot he needed was vacant during the time slot he was currently working on.

"I know you were angry, but that doesn't excuse what you did. You can't hit Jason like that, ever. He's your _father_."

Honestly, he was only barely listening to her anymore. If he didn't get out of here within the hour he was going to lose his fucking mind and they'd have to cart him off to Shady Brook where he'd spend the rest of his days tied up in a strait jacket, compulsively making shipment schedules on the wall with a Sharpie poised between his toes.

"He told me that you went to see him at Jake's."

She was expecting an answer, he knew that, but he wasn't up to playing games. His mind just wouldn't work in two different directions at once.

Elizabeth waited for him to say something and let out an impatient sigh when he didn't. "He said that you two talked and you apologized and it was fine."

For a man that claimed he didn't lie, Jason sure loved his half-truths and omissions. Jake resisted the urge to smile as he filled the last vacant lot and added the papers to the folder on his right, reaching now for the last time slot he had to proof and adjust.

His mother claimed Jason said that the two of them spoke and he apologized, and Jason accepted. Jake knew that Jason knew he did no such thing. He hadn't apologized for hitting him. He knew that he _wouldn't_ apologize for hitting him. All he had done was apologized for the sad state of his parents' lives during the time they occupied the safe house. What was supposed to most likely be a fun, illicit, clandestine love affair in a house in the country was nothing more than a pathetic reminder that they would never share their lives. That was what he had apologized to Jason for, and they both knew it.

Which was why the half-truth, half-lie was even more interesting.

"Jake? Well?"

He kept his features carefully schooled as he moved his pen from top to bottom, left to right on the scheduling sheet, matching up shipments with shipment vehicles with available routes and vacant storage units in the different states and districts. All of this was so much harder without Molly around to handle at least two of the variables and make him laugh while they were drudging through it. Harder, but not impossible.

"Well, if Jason said it, it must be true."

It was a statement entirely lacking in malice or resentment, said in an almost chipper and confident tone, but Elizabeth's lips still curved downward for reasons she couldn't quite explain.

"He said he forgave you."

His lips curved into a tight smile and Jake just shook his head, jotting down a note for his shipment director. "He's a forgiving, understanding kind of guy."

"And how long do you think that will last?" He looked up at her and saw her bottomless eyes, wet and shining, trained on him. "How long before you both just push each other too far? Before you lose any chance at having a relationship with him because he takes your words at face value and just leaves you alone?"

"Honestly, Mom?" He leveled her with a long look, honest and clear for the first time that night, and added the last of the shipment documents to his folder, preparing to stand now that he was finally done. "You overestimate how much I care."

* * *

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

"Hey." He smiled at her hesitantly when she opened the door and motioned for him to come inside. "Hope it's okay that I came over without calling."

"It's fine, Jason." Elizabeth slid her hand down his arm as he moved past her, automatically reaching out to help him out of his leather jacket. She held it in her hands, close to her chest, and moved to hang it up on the coat rack. "You're always welcome here."

She turned around and saw him standing there sheepishly with something heavy and silver in his hands. "What...?"

"It's...kind of a Mother's Day gift," he replied, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Jason handed it over to her and watched as she delicately ran her fingertips over the metal. "It's the knocker from the safe house. You always liked it. I saw that the one on the door here is getting tarnished and thought you might...I don't know..."

She lifted her bright eyes up to his and smiled. "I love it. I just love it. Will you hang it up for me?"

Jason looked outside. "Right now?"

"Sure," Elizabeth chirped, unmindful of the fact that it was ten o'clock at night. "Can you?"

"Uh..." He looked around the room. "...You got a toolbox?"

She nodded and handed him the knocker, heading toward the door behind him. "Yup. Jake keeps his in the garage, I'll get it for you."

It was the same tool box their boy maintained since he was a teenager, rusty handles and all, and Jason had to smile when he saw it. It was bright red, with old but excellently cared for tools lined up inside. The buckles were a little loose and it was covered in _The Who_ and _Grateful Dead_ stickers, a relic of all the work and love his son once put into this house.

"Which one do you need? The one with four corners or the one with two?"

"The one with four corners," he replied, successfully hiding a smile. "Yeah, that's just fine."

Taking it from her, Jason moved past the coffee table and accidentally hit it with his knee, upsetting the vase that sat on it. Elizabeth lunged for it and successfully rescued the two dozen pink and orange tulips.

"Sorry." He waited for her to right the vase and then led the way to the front door. "For Mother's Day?"

"From Cameron," she smiled, following him out and flipping on the porch light so he could actually see what he was doing. "They arrived this morning. Can I ask you something?"

He squinted in the night, finally setting the screwdriver and loosening the knocker on her door. "Sure."

"How'd you get this?"

"Went to the safe house," he shrugged. "There was some construction going on. They were fixing the window and the garage out back. I just walked up to the front door and pried it off."

"No one said anything?"

"I'm sure they said something," Jason chuckled. "I heard one of the foremen call Jake and say something about it. He must have said that he didn't care if I took it. Hold this."

She took her old knocker and held it in her hands, watching him as he carefully placed the new one before reaching for the screws he left on the ledge. "I have some of your things."

"Yeah?"

"Some of your books," she tried again. "And a couple of your t-shirts. They got mixed in with my stuff that was...delivered from the safe house."

"Oh."

That was all he said.

"I, um..." Elizabeth bit her lower lip, watching his strong hands at work. "I got my paintings back, but _The Wind _is missing. Do you have it?"

Jason stopped, holding the screw driver still. "...No."

"Oh. Oh, okay. I-I was hoping that you did, but I guess it was missplaced-"

"Jake has it."

Her lips parted in surprise. "What?"

"Jake has it," Jason repeated. "He wanted to keep it."

It was much better than the painting being lost, but Elizabeth was still confused. "Why? Why would he want to keep it?"

"He didn't stop and explain it to me," he said lightly, reaching for another screw. "Just said that he liked it and was going to keep it."

"So..." Her brows pulled together. "He has it."

"Yeah."

"At his house."

"I'm guessing."

"He has _The Wind_."

"Yeah."

"Oh." She didn't say anything for a long time, which made Jason uneasy.

"I-I could get it back from him," he said finally, "if you want it back, I can get it from him."

"No." Elizabeth shook her head once, then again. "No, there's no need. If he likes it, he can have it. As – As long as it's okay with you. It's your painting."

"It's okay with me." He licked his lips and reached for the last screw. "Did – Did Jake send you anything? For today, I mean?"

Her lips quirked up in a sad smile. "No. No, he didn't."

"I bet it's coming," Jason said after a pause. "He's been busy. I heard there were shipment problems. It's probably coming."

Elizabeth nodded again, still smiling that sad, wistful smile. "Yeah."

"Elizabeth." He set down the screw driver even though he wasn't done. "He's not going to abandon you. He's not going to stop loving you. You won't suddenly not be his mother anymore."

"It feels like that sometimes," she admitted, and he could hear the tears in her thick voice. "It really does. He – He doesn't talk to me anymore. I mean, he does. When I go to see him, when he comes to see me. But never just to talk. We're not the same as we were before. Did you know – when he was in college, he used to call me every other day. Just to talk. Just to tell me about his classes and his professor and whatever girl he was dating, just to hear about my patients. Now I'm the one that calls him."

She wiped away a stray tear. "He hardly ever comes by the house anymore unless he has to. To fix things. Or to have someone else fix things. I don't know where he is, I don't know who he's with, I don't know who he's seeing, I don't know anything about his life right now. And it's just...hard to go from seeing my baby every day and talking to him to not even knowing..."

He pulled her into his arms when she started to cry and just rested his chin on her head until her shoulders stopped quaking. "Elizabeth, he loves you. No matter what, he'll always love you. He'll never leave you, he doesn't have it in him. He'll be back. And even if things don't go back to exactly the way they were...he'll be back."

Elizabeth sniffled and turned her face into the glow of the porch light. Even all these years later, Jason was the same rational man with an incredibly calming presence. "It looks good."

He tried to look down at her. "What?"

"The knocker," she sighed, smiling a little. "It looks good."

"I'm not done yet," he reminded her.

"I know." Elizabeth rested her cheek against his chest. "Still."

"Excuse me."

Elizabeth turned around so quickly in his arms that she almost lost her footing, and Jason let go as soon as he'd steadied her. Jesus, they'd been standing together out in front of her house under the porch light, where anyone driving by on the street could – and most likely did – see them.

But the only one standing there presently was a delivery man with a large vase of flowers. And he didn't seem to care much that he'd just witnessed an embrace between the reclusive Jason Morgan and the mother of his secret love child.

"You Ms. Elizabeth Webber?"

"I am," she said, her gaze fixed on the flowers. "Are those for me?"

"They are," he affirmed with a little smile. "Here you go. Sign here, please."

Elizabeth scrawled her name on the line and took the flowers, a dozen red roses and a dozen white, and breathed them in. "Who are they from?"

"The card's right here," Jason said, plucking it out from between the roses. He nodded at the delivery man. "Thanks."

"You folks have a good night," came the bored reply. "Take care."

Jason waited until he'd driven away before he held up the card. "Want me to open it?"

Elizabeth still had her nose buried in the roses, and her eyes glittered. "Yes. Read it out loud."

"_Mom. Love, Jake." _He held it up and showed it to her. "There's a heart. And some little hearts."

She laughed and reached for it, her eyes shining. "Thank you."

"See?" He tilted his head to the side, his expression softening. "He wouldn't have forgotten. And he wouldn't have decided not to send you anything. He's not lost, Elizabeth. He's not."

She nodded slowly, scarcely daring to let herself believe it. "I can't let him go, Jason. No matter what he does or what he says, he's my baby. Even if he wants to go, I don't think I can let him."

"I know," Jason assured her. "And no matter what he says, I don't think he wants to be far from you, either. I think...I think you'll be all right. The two of you."

Elizabeth wanted to correct him, but she didn't. Instead, she just adjusted her grip on the flowers and tipped her head toward the door. "You wanna come in? We're letting in the moths and lightning bugs."

He nodded and held up his screw driver. "I'll just finish putting the knocker on."

"Okay." She moved past him and into the house, heading into the kitchen to put the flowers in water. By the time she came out to place the vase on the table next to the one Cameron sent, Jason had finished and was dropping the screw driver back into Jake's carefully arranged tool box.

Elizabeth sat down on the couch with a contented sigh, just looking at her flowers as Jason shut the door and came to sit down next to her. It wasn't the gift itself that had her happy. She'd never been all about gifts. In fact, she'd always preferred the hand-made gifts she got from Jake and Cameron when they were little boys, unable to buy her fancy things.

It was just the thought of it, that her sons had thought of her and sent her something to brighten her day, and now, it was the sight of it. Two vases, almost identical, holding different but equally beautiful arrangements of flowers. A dozen pink tulips, a dozen orange ones, a dozen white roses, a dozen red ones...

She tilted her head to the side. "Eleven."

Jason stretched his arm out along the back of the couch behind her. "What?"

"There are eleven red roses." She shrugged and leaned back against his chest. "Hm. No big deal."

* * *

**.: Office, Corinthos-Webber Warehouse :.**

Jake sat at his desk, a long-stemmed red rose dangling from his fingers. He swished it back and forth, following the brilliant crimson color, and lifted it to his nose to inhale the subtly sweet scent.

He hadn't been sure that the flowers would arrive, so he sent one it with one of his own men to make sure, using one of the delivery trucks they had in their vehicular arsenal. He felt bad enough forgetting Mother's Day because he'd been working for the past seventeen hours, and he wanted to at least be sure that the flowers reached his mother in time. The junior guard reported that they had, and that Jason Morgan had been present upon delivery.

Jake was proud of himself for hardly giving that a second thought. It wasn't his call who his mother had over at the house now that he wasn't living there. As long as she didn't invite over anyone that worked against him or would wish their family harm, he didn't care. He had men on the house and in the neighborhood, and he had men among Johnny Zacchara's men that also policed the block, so he knew she was safe. If she wanted to spend time with his father, she was more than entitled to.

He waved the rose in front of his face, following it lazily with his eyes. His mother loved roses, always had. She had a thing for white ones thanks to Lucky Spencer, and loved how they looked with red ones.

"Boss?"

One of his guards knocked on his door and poked his head in. "You have a visitor."

Jake sat up and tossed the flower onto his desk. "Let her in."

He had been expecting her, and Jake offered Molly a small smile when she was ushered into his office. She arched a brow at him and came to a stop in the middle of the room, and Jake walked around his desk to meet her.

"Hey."

"Hey." She pursed her lips together and looked around the room. "So...someone sent me about thirty Some-E-Cards, half of them droll, half of them lewd. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Jake smirked. "I can't help it. That site is addictive."

Molly smiled and shook her head. "Were you serious?"

"About what I said?" Jake slipped his hands into his pockets and nodded. "Yeah. Dead serious. I want you back, Moll."

"You know why I can't."

"Because you're hinging your employment on a ridiculous condition that I do something I can't," he told her gently. "It's not your call to make, Moll."

She met his gaze directly and bit down on her lower lip. "...I can't stand by and watch you hurt yourself."

"And I don't intend to." Jake took a step closer to her. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Cameron. I don't want to put you in a position where you feel like you have to help me, even at my own expense. I take advantage of you, Moll. I take advantage of you without even knowing it, because you're always the first in line to get the work done, always the first in line to help me out. I'm not going to do that anymore."

"You don't take advantage of me," she told him quietly. "I help you because you're one of my oldest friends. Because I love you and care about you and want to help keep you safe the way you keep me safe. If I don't like something, you know I'd speak up."

"Yeah, I know." He tugged sheepishly on his ear. "Now."

Molly laughed despite herself. "Yeah, well."

"If you come back, things will be different," Jake promised, serious now. "If I make my mind up about something, you know _I_ deliver."

"I know," she replied honestly. "But..."

"Moll, I can't do anything without you." He shrugged, his hands at his side. "I mean, I can, but it's not the same. I don't want to. It's different when you're here. Better. This whole place runs...better when you're with me. No more games, Moll."

"...I can live with that," she finally said. "As long as – as long as you're in a better place, Jake, or getting there. As long as you're honest with me. There is too much riding on what we do, too much riding on our relationship, for you to play the same games with me that you do with everyone else."

"I know. And if you come back, that'll be the first thing to change."

Molly set her computer down on the chair next to her and nodded with a small but bright smile. "I'll come back."

Jake grinned and moved forward, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. Molly laughed and hugged him back, squeaking when he dipped her a little bit.

"You know, I spoil you," he teased, his chuckles turning into a grunt when she shoved him. He righted her and pulled back, still holding her hands. "You back in?"

"I am back in," she nodded. "And I'm so ahead of the game that I know exactly what you're going to do next."

His eyes widened. "What? How?"

"Because I know you," she shrugged. "I know your signs. And I know that for the next thing you're going to do, you'll need me, Morgan, and Kristina."

Jake smirked and held out his arm, which she accepted. "Let's get started, then."


	58. BrokenHearted People

**Mean 57**

_And when the broken-hearted people_

_Living in the world agree,_

_There will be an answer:_

_Let it be._

-- "Let It Be," The Beatles

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

Johnny Zacchara entered the bar and looked around, scanning the room out of habit. He noticed how many people there were, where they were standing, how many women in relation to men, and the available exits. And when he looked toward the counter, he noticed Jake Webber sitting there with his head resting on his arms and an almost empty glass of vodka in front of him.

Slipping his hands in his pockets, Johnny made his way over to the bar. Quietly, so as not to startle the young man, he slid onto the stool next to him and shook his head when Coleman offered him a drink.

"Jake?" He smiled when the young man lifted his head. "Hey."

"Hey," Jake murmured, letting his head fall again.

He said nothing else, which didn't particularly surprise Johnny. Jake had his moods, and there were times when he was just painfully quiet.

He was an emotional sort, Johnny knew this well. He'd seen it since Jake was a boy. He knew that Jake liked to put out the image of being as stoic and indifferent as his father could be at times, but Johnny had never once fallen for that. Jake was just like his mother in that respect and often wore his emotions on his sleeve for those that cared enough to see them.

He folded his arms on the counter and tilted his head at the young man, whose eyes remained closed. "Is something wrong?"

Sandy lashes fluttered, and when Jake looked up at him Johnny saw that his eyes were soft and distant, clouded by vodka and emotion. The liquor was taking effect, and even though Johnny had seen Jake before when he was buzzed or outright drunk, this time was different.

For a long time, no words passed between the two, and just when Johnny was starting to think that Jake would never answer, he heard him speak.

His voice was low and soft, as if it came from a much younger person.

"You ever get the feeling that you're stuck?"

Johnny's brows furrowed. Oh, that could have meant so many different things. If anyone had a reason to feel stuck, it was Jake Webber. But if anyone was to blame for Jake Webber feeling stuck, it was mostly Jake Webber. He could be referring to so many things: his mother, the shadow of his father, the business, the town in all its suffocating, podunk charm...

"The feeling that you're stuck with – with someone, that you've been with them or involved with them for such a long time..."

Johnny pursed his lips. That husky confession, no doubt induced by liquor and sadness, narrowed things down considerably.

Jake was talking about Amalia.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "...That you've been with the same person for such a long time, but it's okay because you're happy, because you've always been happy..."

Johnny breathed a sigh of relief. Good, maybe this wasn't going to be as dismal as he thought. Maybe he wasn't going to have to break Jake's legs for hurting his daughter.

"...you've always been happy, but you have to wonder if maybe she's just used to being with you, to taking care of you and protecting you from things you won't protect yourself from, and she made that decision a long, long time ago..."

Johnny tilted his head to the side, frowning as he wondered just _how_ long ago, and if perhaps he wasn't vigilant enough when both he and Amalia were younger, back when he was seriously considering just locking his daughter in her room until she was thirty so long as there was a way to keep his wife from finding out...

"...she just decided to be with you a long time ago, and she kept with it because she's just a steady, dependable kind of person, which is good because it's the kind of person you've always needed, and she's seen you at your best and your worst..."

Again, Johnny was forced to wonder just what that meant, and then whether he really wanted to know or not.

"...and she just wants to take care of you the way she perceives you always try to take care of her, and now so many fucking years have passed..."

Jake scrubbed a hand over his face and stared down at his almost empty glass of liquor.

"...so many years have passed, and she's just kind of stuck with you, and she might not be happy but she's just really good at going through the motions of it, and you're at a crossroads where either you want to go all the way forward or you just have to go back and break it off to give her a fair chance, and before you both get even more complacent about the whole situation?"

He was staring at him, looking young and lost and tired, and Johnny scratched his chin.

"Have I ever had that feeling?" He tilted his head to the side. "No."

Jake didn't smile, and instead just let his head fall back on his arms again.

"Hey." Johnny drummed his fingers on the counter. "Jake, look at me."

Slowly, he turned his head and gazed over at him, unblinking.

"You're talking about my daughter." He didn't deny it, of course, and Johnny wouldn't have believed him if he tried to. "Li's a lot like me, but she's a lot like her mother, too. I used to try to make decisions for my wife when I was your age, and she immediately set me straight. I've since given up."

Johnny turned on the stool, letting one arm rest flat on the counter as he gripped his thigh with his other hand, trying to figure out a way to make Jake understand what he was talking about.

"I know you've always cared for Amalia more than you've let on," he started slowly. "Sometimes, that meant keeping her at a distance when you didn't want to hurt her. I get that. But don't let your desire to protect her – from you – cloud your thinking here. Li's more than capable of making her own decisions, and trust me when I tell you that my daughter's never been the sort to let herself 'get stuck' anywhere...or with anyone."

And suddenly, it all made sense. It all came together with perfect clarity, in the best possible way.

Johnny smiled and reached out, tousling his hair, unable to help it. He'd seen Jake grow from a boy to a man, seen him chase relentlessly after his daughter and back off immediately when Amalia offered him even the slightest bit of encouragement for his advances, but this was the first time that Johnny Zacchara thought with any amount of certainty that he might know exactly where Jake was going.

"You're going to be fine," he assured him seriously. "You're both going to be just fine. Don't overthink it. That's the best advice I can give you, that was what finally worked for me and Nadine. Don't overthink it. If something works, let it work without coming up with a million ways to analyze it, because you'll just be sabotaging it. If something works, just let it work for you."

Jake nodded slowly, pushing himself up into a seated position as Johnny plucked the almost empty glass up off the counter and slid it toward Coleman at the far end of the bar.

"And you don't need that."

"I wasn't getting drunk," he felt the need to explain for reasons that made him uncomfortable. Jake knew that Johnny thought it was vodka, and didn't want to tell him that it was only water. "I was supposed to meet Morgan here, but he canceled, so I just..."

"Sat alone and started drinking," Johnny finished with a smile.

"Pathetic, huh?"

"Not really," he demurred thoughtfully. "I like to be by myself sometimes, too. I find I afford myself excellent company."

Jake laughed at that. "I think it's your humble disposition."

"Must be," Johnny agreed. "Listen, tell you what. Why don't you get out of here? Like you said, Morgan's not coming. You don't need to sit alone in a dark, dirty bar and drink and think about things like that. You'll drive yourself insane that way."

He frowned slightly, taking in Jake's bloodshot eyes and the creases around his mouth. "Go home, Jake. Get some sleep."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead, thanks."

Johnny smirked and lifted his hands, motioning for two beers. "What, you still need someone to tuck you in? Turn on your nightlight? Check the closet for monsters and give Mr. Dog a kiss, is that it? Been there with Amalia, kid, so you just have to say the word."

"God, your sister's right," Jake groaned good-naturedly, wrapping his hand around the frosty bottle just to feel its coldness bleed into his hand. "You _are_ a jerk. No wonder Lia tried to run away from home."

"Ouch. Low blow. As if one Claudia wasn't bad enough..."

Thinking he was serious, Jake regretted his words. "I didn't mean – hey, she only tried to run away once. And she didn't get any farther than across the street."

"That's because she was never trying to get away from us," Johnny smirked, taking a pull from his bottle. "She was just trying to get to you."

Jake shifted uneasily, turning slightly and making an excuse out of fetching a napkin, but Johnny saw the dull color that slowly rose in his cheeks.

"Hey," he said, swirling his bottle almost contemplatively. "At least my daughter had the sense to use your front door...instead of always climbing onto your roof and fucking up the shingles."

Jake rolled his eyes, and Johnny laughed and affably jostled him. "...Yeah, yeah..."

* * *

Jason entered the bar through the alley entrance at about the same time that Johnny Zacchara entered from the front door.

Somehow, Johnny never really seemed to fit in at Jake's, at least in Jason's opinion. He knew him well enough to know that Johnny was one of those sorts that actually didn't mind wearing suits, or sipping expensive, aged beverages, usually something malted, and making small talk with a bunch of other men. Remarkably, he didn't even mind doing all three of those things at once.

Johnny was one of the last of his kind: a cultured, privileged, worldly mob prince steeped in tradition and propriety. He ran a large business corporation and ran it the old-fashioned way; he had an estate and lived in a manor instead of owning a rentable building and living in a penthouse; he was always dressed impeccably; he was a firm and solid family man scouting out his heir apparent for his marriageable daughter; and he represented establishment and refinement and longevity of family line in a way that few men in their world did anymore.

That was why it was always somewhat of a surprise to see him at the hole-in-the-wall dive in his dress pants and dress shirts, every partially silver hair perfectly in place, drinking or shooting pool as if he was no different from the dockworkers or bodyguards that usually frequented the joint.

Jason hung around in the back, preferring the shadows and the out-of-the-way booths, and had just taken his seat and nodded at the hostess to bring him a beer when he saw Johnny head toward the bar. He took a seat next to a man with his head resting on his folded arms, and it was only when he straightened that Jason saw that it was Jake.

He forgot to tip his head at the girl in thanks when she brought him a bottle, but she didn't seem to mind. She was probably used to not being thanked. Just like he was used to being left alone when he was at Jake's.

Jason leaned forward slightly in his booth, watching as Jake scrubbed his hands over his face. He looked upset, worn down, and was talking more than Jason had ever seen him talk when he was upset. Johnny had his elbow on the counter, his chin propped in his hand as he listened carefully, seriously, to what Jake had to say.

Jason sat there transfixed, forgetting even to take a sip of his beer, and just watched the two men. Johnny was talking now, and Jake must not have liked what he said because he lay his head down on the counter again. And then Johnny tilted his head closer, and Jason could read his son's name on his lips. Amazingly, Jake looked up and actually listened.

Johnny waved his hand in the air, clearly laying something out in plain terms for Jake, knowing that he could be stubborn times. And Jason just watched, his beer slowly warming in his grip, as Johnny smiled and reached out to tousle Jake's sandy locks that he'd started wearing just a touch long again. Jake was laughing, too, and though Jason couldn't hear their conversation, he could see from Johnny's teasing grin that he was making fun of him.

He propped his chin – hard – in his hand and kept watching the two men, seated together at the bar and still laughing, and almost missed the sound of someone _harumph_ing right behind him.

Surprised, Jason turned around to see his grandfather standing a few paces away, a few darts held in his hand as he aimed carefully. When he looked back at Jake, he saw that he was clinking beer bottles with Johnny, still smiling.

"Grandfather." With nothing else left to do but sit around and feel useless and passed over, Jason rose to his feet, taking his beer with him. "What are you doing here?"

Edward waited until he joined him before holding up his dart once more, squinting at the board. "Don't look so surprised, my boy. I come here occasionally."

"Since when?"

"...Since a month ago."

"Yeah?" Jason took a sip from his bottle and waited until Edward had thrown. It was an admirable throw, though at least an inch from the bull's eye. "What brought that on?"

"I was introduced to the establishment by a...younger associate," he said mysteriously, lining up another shot and taking it, frowning when he didn't do much better. "Though I can't say I favor the crowds or the food, there is something to be said for the peace in solitude that comes from playing darts. A highly disciplined game of skill and precision and – Well, bloody hell and rodger it all!"

Jason stared at the dart board, the same one that Edward was currently glowering murderously at, and blinked at all the off-mark darts. "Not your night, is it?"

"It's the kind of game that's meant to be played with at least two people," Edward muttered darkly, and Jason had excellent cause to believe that he was referring to one of his great-grandsons. "Balls."

Unable to help it, he burst out laughing at that and it was only through some bizarre stroke of luck that Jake and Johnny didn't notice him. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Edward muttered, giving away the identity of the one who taught him that expression by glancing toward the counter. "They've been sitting there for some time, haven't they?"

"Johnny and Jake?" Jason rolled his shoulders and took another sip of his beer. "Yeah, I guess. They've been talking."

"Good," his grandfather murmured, moving away to retrieve the darts and perhaps start all over. "Jake talks to very few people."

He tossed a dart up in the air, catching it in his hand, and offered it to Jason. "You first. Have a try at it."

Jason let out a half-sigh, half growl and picked up the dart, knowing that Edward would keep up until he relented. Barely looking, he hurled it at the board and glanced over only when his grandfather let out a low whistle.

Edward shook his head. "Off by a mile. Not to worry, you'll get it next time."

Jason sighed, looking over at his son and Johnny Zacchara, and wasn't so sure.

* * *

**.: Family Parlor, Quartermaine Mansion :.**

"Visitor for you, Mrs. Quartermaine."

Monica closed her book and stood, setting it on the couch. "Thank you, Alice."

The maid excused herself, leaving Jason to fidget awkwardly. Monica offered him a half smile.

"Can I get your coat for you?"

He shook his head. "No, thanks."

She nodded and moved slowly over to the wet bar. "Sit, please. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Not right now."

"I'm going to fix myself a little something," Monica said anyway, and Jason waited patiently until she was done.

"I...I just needed to talk to you."

His mother motioned again to the couch. "Sit, then. What did you want to talk about?"

Offhandedly, Jason wondered if the conversation sounded as stilted to her ears as it did to his. He looked down at his hands, folded them together, twiddled his thumbs, unfolded them, and looked at them some more.

Monica leaned back slowly in her chair. "Let me guess," she said softly. "It's about Jake."

The corner of her mouth curved up gently when he looked up at her, and she was once again struck by how alike father and son were in appearance. And personality.

Monica wasn't above admitting that she was being selfish: she was glad the secret was out. She had lived most of her life knowing that the dangers of the mob world could take her son away from her; thankfully, that hadn't come to pass. But she'd worried and fretted and raged, and their relationship had never really recovered after Jason took that job with Sonny, after his business claimed Emily and almost Michael.

She was determined not to do that again. Monica knew she didn't have the rest of her life ahead of her, not the way she once did, and she wasn't going to jeopardize her relationship with her new grandson just because she was afraid. If Jake made a choice to join the business, she would just have to deal with that. And she did. In fact, Monica liked to think that she was dealing very well.

And while she was dealing, she was able to enjoy his company. Jake always came home with Edward after an ELQ meeting, even if they had disagreed bitterly. Her father-in-law had invited him the first handful of times, but they both knew after that that the invitation wasn't necessary. Jake would always come in after the meeting and wolf down a late dinner while Edward ate his oatmeal and took his medicine, and Monica got to sit with them at the dining table, and that was just wonderful as far as she was concerned.

She genuinely liked Jake. She knew what they said about him around town – she knew what everyone said about him. But she was a Quartermaine woman, well used to people not liking the men in her family. It didn't bother her in the slightest if people thought Jake was an arrogant ass. Lots of people said that about Alan. And Edward. And Jason, to this very day. As far as Monica was concerned, Jake was following in a long line of Quartermaine men that had always done what they wanted and said to hell with everything else.

Jason, however, didn't appear to take similar pride in that.

"What is it, Jason?" She leaned forward, clasping her hands together. "What's wrong?"

"What was I – do you remember – I don't know if -" He hissed in frustration and scrubbed a hand over his face. "How did you deal with me after the accident?"

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, Monica forgot how to speak. Never before had Jason _asked_ her (or anyone, for that matter) how she dealt with him after the accident. He'd always been much fonder of _telling _her that she suffocated him and heaped all sorts of pressure on him until he just wanted to break. This was the very first time that he had honestly, sincerely asked her.

"I..." She opened and shut her mouth, trying to find the words. "Jason, I..."

"Forget it." He shot up off the couch, shaking his head. "It's okay. Just – forget I asked."

"No, no." Monica stood, reaching for his arm, grasping it with surprising desperation. "No, I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. Please, sit. Please?"

Reluctantly, Jason eased himself back down onto the couch, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"You just caught me surprise, that's all," she admitted shyly. "You've never asked me that question before."

He looked at her, confused. "We – We've talked about the accident before."

"I know. But you've never asked me that question before." With a sigh, Monica folded her hands together in her lap, concentrating on lacing her fingers together. "Let's see...well, I remember vividly to this day what you were like after the accident. We were all just so thankful that you were alive. And when that faded, and the reality set in that you couldn't remember us..."

She shook her head, her eyes closed, then appeared to abruptly shake herself out of it. "But that's not what you asked. Honestly, Jason...it wasn't so much about how to deal with you. It was just about how to keep you close. At least, for me it was."

He was watching her intently, listening so carefully, and he'd never given her that kind of audience before so Monica forged on.

"I knew you were different. I knew you weren't my little boy anymore. I think, if everything didn't happen so fast, that I could have accepted that with time. But there wasn't any time, Jason. It felt like every minute...every minute you were pulling further and further away from us. And there was nothing I could do to stop it, to just make you slow down so we could figure it out. So I made a decision. I dug my heels in, I joined everyone else, and in the end, I drove you away just as much as anyone."

"You didn't drive me away," Jason cut in slowly. "You didn't."

Monica pursed her lips. "Are you saying that because you mean it? Or because you have to say it?"

He looked up at her, and didn't doubt for a second that she saw right through him, right into the heart of the matter. Right into his heart.

"He...he's not coming back."

They weren't talking about Jason Quartermaine anymore.

Monica sighed and got up, making her way over to the couch next to him. She sat slowly, able to almost hear her bones creak, and very gently settled a hand on her son's forearm. "He's never going to leave you completely."

Jason just shook his head. "I thought time would work. I thought...I thought giving him time would work. I thought that if I stayed around, if I didn't try to control him or control his life, if I just stayed around where he could see me, where he could come to me, I thought it would work. I thought he would be angry and then he would just..."

"Figure it out," Monica murmured. "Get over it. Come back to you like he never left. I don't have to tell you...that's not exactly how it works."

Even the irony of the situation wasn't enough to make him smile.

"I don't know how to deal with him," Jason admitted roughly. "I thought I did. I thought I could do it. But I don't, I can't. Every time I try something, he throws it right back at me without missing a beat. I can't ever gain an inch."

"He's had a long time to be angry," Monica sad slowly. "He's gotten used to it."

He nodded. "It's like second nature to him now. I'm lucky if we can say hi and make it all the way to whether the weather is nice or not before he makes an excuse and leaves."

"And meanwhile, you see him around town with other people, and you wonder why he can't be like that around you, the way he is around them," she added, thinking back to the days when she'd see Sonny and Jason talking at the bar at the No Name and on the docks. "Yeah, I can understand that."

Jason closed his eyes. "He's so...it's not...I just don't understand him."

Finally, that got a smile out of her, and Monica gently shook his wrist in her grasp. "I do. I understand him perfectly – because I've seen it before. He's you."

He rolled his eyes. "Everyone says that, but they don't know what they're talking about."

"Maybe the rest of them don't," she said pertly. "But I'm your mother. I know you, even though you think I don't. And I know you when I see you. Jake is just like you were after the accident. There."

She settled back a little and arched a brow at him when he gaped at her. "That was your real question, wasn't it? That was what you wanted to ask without even knowing it. Jake is just like you after the accident. His mental capacities aren't impaired and his perception is perfectly intact, but he's just like you. He's angry at everything without knowing why, much less knowing how to deal with it. And just like you, he's surrounded himself with only the few he trusts and chosen to view everyone else as a liability. Just like you, he's taking it one day at a time because that's the only way he knows how to do it."

Jason swallowed roughly. "If you say he's just like me...how do we get back from that?"

Monica remained silent, and he didn't like the look on her face.

"A lot's changed between you and me since the accident," he said hurriedly, his voice taking on a note of desperation. "I left the family and didn't talk to you, but that wasn't permanent. We talk now. I see you more than I ever used to. We're...fine now."

She smiled and slipped her hand in his, just taking a minute to absorb his warmth. "Jason. We're not fine. We're just better than we used to be."

The corners of his mouth tightened, and Jason was altogether unprepared when his vision blurred. "Then how do we-"

Monica looked down at their hands, and he saw that tears were pooling in her eyes as well. "I don't think she will," she admitted. "I think we'll just each try the best we know how."


	59. Wanna Have Fun

**Note – **One of my special favorites.

**Mean 58**

_Oh, Daddy Dear,_

_You know you're still number one,_

_And girls, they wanna have fun._

-- "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," Cindy Lauper

**.: Elm Street :.**

"Has Morgan gotten back to you yet?"

Chase checked his Blackberry and shook his head. "Last I heard, he had a contract to go over for the L.F.J. Here's the note."

Jake took the device from him as they walked down Elm street and simultaneously navigated through his own iPhone. "Let's see..._lease...subsidized housing...options...be a day or two._ Fuck. Oh, well."

He sighed and handed the Blackberry back to his top guard. "If he needs a day or two, it'll be a day or two. I was kind of hoping we could get it done, keep our heads down and push through it..."

"You could just excuse him from it," Chase suggested. "After all, you've got Kay on it."

"Two pairs of eyes are better than one," Jake recited. "That's what Kay always says. I'm not signing anything until me, Moll, Kay, _and_ Morgan have all had a chance to go through it. Not a chance. Not something like this. Not until we've all picked it apart, covered all our bases, sewn up all the loopholes, divided the necessary assets, and not until we're all on board. "

"I know what you mean," the guard said quietly. "There won't be any coming back from this. I'll make sure a meeting is set up as soon as Morgan's available."

They looked both ways and quickly crossed the street, heading toward the courthouse where they had some permits that Jake wanted to file personally. It wasn't too long a walk from Kelly's and Jake had been reluctant to take the car. Molly's live-green ways were rubbing off on him, Chase supposed.

"Get Moll to come by the warehouse today," Jake said, his fingertip gliding over the LCD screen. "Before midday sometime. I want us to-"

"You can't make it," came the immediate reply as Chase pulled up the schedule for the day. "You have your first appointment with Dr. Chanbonpin this morning."

A slight frown touched his lips as Jake stared down at his phone. "...Oh. Right. Okay, never mind. Set it up for later today. I want Penn there, Harper and Alberts, too."

Chase nodded, well used to their convention of referring to guards second tier and lower by their surnames. "Warehouse or your place?"

"Kay's office," he replied. "Remind me to order lunch for everyone."

"Got it." Chase finished the notation and lowered his phone just as they came to another corner.

"Hell, you know what? I'm going to do it. Call Spencer and set a meeting with him for next week, try for Wyndemere instead of the mainland. He's been talking about another joint venture for a while now and as soon as we get our i's dotted and our t's crossed, I think we'll do-"

"Boss!"

Jake grunted as Chase grabbed him and hauled him back onto the safety of the curb, and not a moment too soon. A motorcycle came roaring up around the sharp curve and would have knocked right into him if his guard hadn't been so vigilant. Jake caught his breath and gaped at the driver as the bike came to an abrupt stop at the light.

"Mom?" Jake stared at Elizabeth as she squealed and clapped her hands. Behind her, Jason planted his feet securely on the ground so that they maintained their balance. "Jesus Christ! You could have run me over!"

"I'm sorry, honey," she soothed, looking absolutely ridiculous in the oversized helmet. Fuck, he hadn't even realized that his mother knew _how_ to drive a motorcycle...or steer it, rather. Jason, at least, had the sense to look properly contrite, even if he did look a little amused as well. "But you really shouldn't be jay-walking. It's dangerous."

Jake tried to sputter something unintelligible, but Elizabeth gripped the gear and Jason pulled his feet back up, preparing to help her round the corner and speed back up again.

"And don't take God's name in vain." She gunned the bike and started to pull away, and Jason quickly grabbed the handle to steer when she waved at him. "See you later!"

Chase wisely kept his words to himself as Jake turned and followed the bike with his eyes, his mouth hanging open. Finally, he snapped it shut and turned around in the direction they'd been heading, but his eyes twinkled, and the grin he was grinning would stay with him for the rest of the day as the sound of his mother's laughter floated down the street.

* * *

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

"Boss." Penn nodded at him as he came through the front door. "Morgan sent you a few files from the city via special courier. I put them in your office."

"Thanks," Jake replied, clapping him on the back as the guard headed out. "I'll see you later. And, hey, thanks for wrapping things up at the meeting when I had to run out."

"Not a problem. And I meant to ask – how was your appointment with the doctor this morning?"

"...Not too bad," he said slowly. "I'm still not sure how I feel about the whole thing. Grandfather swears by it, though, says it really helped with his arthritis. I think I'll give it a month before I decide one way or another. Just to be safe."

"I think that's a good idea." Penn grabbed his keys and nodded at him one last time. "I'll be by tonight for the last read-through with Moll, and Chase will be around when Morgan gets back. By the way – you have a visitor."

This was intriguing. "Who?"

Penn tipped his head toward the stairs. "She's up there. Have fun."

Jake waited until he was gone before heading into the office. He quickly filed the receipts he had with him, checked his messages, and made sure that the files Penn was referring to were where he said. Then he came out and, making sure no one else was around, trotted up the stairs to the second floor.

There was only one woman who would be so at home in his house even when he wasn't around. Anna, Moll, CeeCee, and Kay had no problem showing up when he wasn't there, but they always stayed downstairs. His mother didn't come by to visit him at the house very often – he knew she didn't like the place at all – and Carly was aware that she wasn't exactly welcome unannounced.

Only Amalia was entirely comfortable in his home. She knew the staff, she knew the schedule, she knew where everything was, and what was more, she liked it all the way it was. Amalia never spent the night at his home, just because she had increasing obligations in Crimson Pointe and it just didn't make sense for her to drive back and forth all over the place, and she never slept in the master bedroom because she objected to _The Past_ that still hung above his bed, but she still felt like a constant presence at Morgan Manor, and Jake wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

"Amalia?" He looked around, moving past the offices and guest bedrooms. "Lia? Where are you?"

"Over here."

Her voice was coming from the bathroom and Jake headed down the hallway to find her. He entered the massive room, passing the individual couches (Spencer had couches in his bathrooms at Wyndemere, and Jake had always liked the idea even though he was the first to admit it made absolutely no sense) and the closets and stepping into the washing area.

Amalia was standing in front of the marble sinks, dressed in her signature white frock, with a pair of all-purpose scissors in her hand. His brush sat on the counter, and several long strands of jet-black hair were tangled in the bristles.

He met her gaze in the mirror and slowly moved toward her. "...What's going on?"

"I'm cutting my hair," she announced, setting the scissors down in order to run the brush through her long locks one more time. Amalia stared down her image in the mirror, sweeping her hair together and making sure it was held evenly, then picked up the scissors again.

It was clear that she was in one of her moods, and Jake knew better than to say anything, much less try to get her to stop.

"My father wants to keep bringing his associates by the house so that they can assess me like I'm some sort of prize hound?" she snorted, lifting the blades to her hair. "Fine, I'll give them something to gawk at.

"All of those stodgy, old, traditional-type Italian men are looking for prim, demure, docile, traditional Italian girls for their sons. They want soft-spoken girls in white dresses with long, black hair, that know how to make a brigole that'll knock your socks off. Chopping my hair off should deter a good number of them and buy me some time."

And Jake could only watch as Amalia made good on her word and snipped through her beautiful hair, cropping it off a little above her chin. She held the shorn fifteen inches in her fist, dark and glossy and gone, and stared defiantly at her reflection. Triumphantly, she dumped the hair into the wastebasket, pleased by the little _thump _sound, and ran her fingers through her newly cut ends.

Jake bit his lip, watching her watch herself, and just waited for the imminent outburst. He'd seen this before, one rainy evening back in high school when he and Anna were over at the Jacks house, hanging out with CeeCee and Morgan. CeeCee was bored, having nothing to do but watch Anna and Jake play the new Xbox game that Morgan had just gotten for his birthday, and had gone upstairs to update her look by cutting her bangs. They heard the clack of the scissors, then silence for about fifteen seconds, and then a shriek.

Carly had miraculously managed to salvage the mess, and Cecily had booked an emergency appointment at the salon, first thing the next morning. So Jake was well versed in every woman's cardinal rule: Thou Shalt Never Cut Thine Own Hair.

Amalia actually looked proud of herself for the act of defiance, but as he watched, the calm confidence in her eyes faded, and the longer she stared, the more horrified her expression became.

"Oh, my God." Gingerly, she lifted a hand to her hair, not seeming to believe anymore that the ends swished right by her chin. "It's so _short_. Oh, my God. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. What did I do? I can't do short hair! I don't have the cheekbones for it!"

Jake had absolutely no idea what that meant.

Amalia frantically reached for her purse, intending to grab her cell phone. "Oh, shit. _Shit_. I hope there's something Felicienne can do with it. It looks _awful_."

"Hey." Gently, he pried her phone from her fingers and set it down on the counter before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. Jake rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at their reflection in the mirror, and turned his nose into her hair.

"I like it." He nuzzled her ear, feeling her fingers come up to hesitantly link with his. "I think it's sexy."

Amalia didn't look convinced. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jake let his hot breath fan out over his skin and straightened, trailing his lips over the sensitive skin there. "Besides, it's much easier to kiss your neck this way."

She laughed and slowly relented under his ministrations, letting him turn her in his arms. Jake gently backed her up against the marble counter that Cecily had picked out personally. His hands sat on the narrow pinch of her waist, holding her close, and he slowly slipped a leg between hers as he kissed her soundly, thoroughly. Amalia moaned into his mouth, shaking her hair playfully when she felt him run his fingers through it.

When she pulled back, her lips were slightly swollen and her pale blue eyes sparkled. "...You're in a good mood today."

Jake smiled and touched his lips to her nose, her cheek, her chin, and pulled back to look deeply into her eyes. "I _am_ in a good mood."

Amalia linked her fingers together behind his neck. "Any particular reason?"

He smiled mysteriously and brushed his lips against hers. "Let's just say...that everything's finally started to come together. I know exactly what I'm going to do next."

"Yeah?" she teased, grinning now. "And what are you going to do next?"

Jake surprised her by leaning down and scooping her up into his arms. He flashed her a lascivious grin and marched out of the bathroom and down the hall, loving the feeling of her warmth and her weight against him.

"As if you don't know."


	60. Gangster Sh t Hereditary

**Mean | 59**

_You kick it like me, no exaggeration necessary;_

_Living revolutionary, nothing less than legendary._

_Gangsta shit hereditary, got it from my dad;_

_Flow colder than February with extraordinary swag._

_No one on the corner have swagger like us._

-- "Swagger Like Us," TI feat. Kanye West et al.

**.: No Name :.**

"And, I don't know, he's been in a pretty good mood recently," Jason admitted, nervously playing with his dessert fork. Sonny wondered why it was that Jason always seemed a little anxious when he talked about Jake, even after all this time, as if the enforcer was a child secretly doing what he was expressly told not to. "Elizabeth's noticed it, too."

"How so?"

He rolled his shoulders, carefully choosing his words. "He just seems…settled. I guess. It's just – being around him, he just looks and acts a lot calmer than he used to. More…grounded. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"Self-assured?" Sonny guessed.

Jason made a face. "Kind of. Not really. Like…he's gotten to a place where he's struck a good balance in his life. Like, when we first started working together, about three months in. We hit a good rhythm. We knew exactly what each of us was responsible for. I had Robin and you had Brenda and it just…worked. And we didn't question it, we just kind of enjoyed it."

"You think Jake's 'enjoying it' now?"

"I do," he nodded. "I don't know what 'it' is, really. It's not like we've talked about it."

Sonny noted the tinge of bitterness in his voice.

"But he's been in a good mood. Obviously he's handling the business and there aren't any problems, otherwise we would have heard. Morgan's schedule has finally lightened up a little and Jake's glad to have him back in Port Charles more, I can see that. I've seen him and CeeCee and sometimes Amalia around town. And – he's slower to get angry. Like, every time he sees me and Elizabeth spending time together, he doesn't really react."

"Before, it would have affected him," Sonny filled in. "He would have behaved in a reactionary way to just that."

Jason nodded. "Yeah. And now he just seems better about it. About everything, really. And that's good."

His best friend arched a brow. "Is it?"

"What do you mean?" Jason's brows pulled together as he frowned. "Yeah, it's a good thing. Why would you say that?"

Sonny sighed heavily. "…It's always been my experience – and it should be yours, too; I shouldn't even have to be saying any of this – that a non-reaction where there would have been a reaction before, consistently…can be dangerous."

"What are you saying?"

He didn't wince at the question asked in a flat voice. "I'm saying that Jake's not some kid unable to hide his emotions. He's not transparent. He's the opposite – he's damn good at hiding his feelings. And that makes me think that there's something more going on. Something we're going to have to keep an eye on."

Jason's normally vibrant eyes were dull and unamused. "I'm not going to tail my kid or-or stalk him or whatever it is you're talking about."

"Too bad," Sonny shrugged. "You'd probably have done a better job keeping tabs on him than anyone I find to do the job."

He rolled his eyes. "Sonny…"

"He's up to something," his best friend insisted. "Just because you don't want to risk whatever relationship you think you might have with him is no reason to be careless when it comes to him. I know you don't want to say it, you don't even want to think about it, but Spinelli's right. Jake is dangerous. He's – damn it, hang on."

He frowned at his phone when it buzzed and lifted it to his ear. "Hello?"

Jason could barley make out the speaker on the other end.

"_Sonny, it's me."_

Instantly, he was on alert. "What's wrong? Is it Kristina? What happened?"

"_Nothing happened," _came the testy reply. _"But there's something going on right now that I think you should know about. Is Jason with you?"_

Sonny's eyes flicked toward him. "Yeah."

"_Of course he is. This concerns him, too."_

"Is it about the kids?"

"…_Yes."_

Sonny closed his eyes. "Alexis, just come out and say it."

"_There's a transfer going on right now."_

Jason's eyes narrowed. "What kind of transfer? Ask her what kind of transfer."

"What kind of transfer?"

"_One that involves your son, Jason's son, and my daughters. Both of them. You figure it out."_

Sonny's lips parted in surprise and he could only manage a muffled cough as it came together. "The business? What are they doing with the business?"

"_Like I said, a transfer. A conveyance. A transaction."_

The mobster was on his feet in a flash. "It's changing hands?!"

"_Yes. Thought you might want to know. It's happening right now at the warehouse."_

"Alexis, why the hell didn't you tell me sooner?" Sonny waved at Jason to hurry the hell up as the enforcer tossed a few bills on the table and rose.

"_Honestly? I didn't care to. It's not my problem that you and Jason can't keep your boys in line."_

Sonny growled as he and Jason raced toward the exit. "Then why are you paying me the courtesy now?"

"_Again, honestly? Because I just found out that Kristina gave up a job in the State Attorney's office to work in your damn business. If you play even a small part in getting her out of it, I'll be forever grateful. That's why I told you. Go in there and bust it up, Sonny."_

He didn't reply and just hung up, jamming the phone into his pocket as he slid into the passenger seat of Jason's SUV.

"Told you we had to keep an eye on him before he did something like this."

"…Shut the fuck up, Sonny, all right?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Morgan Coffee Imports Warehouse :.**

Alexis had told them in the nick of time. Thanks to her, they would have been able to get to the kids in time and stop Morgan and Jake from taking that final leap, the one Jake would never be able to come back from.

Or, rather, they would have been there in time had it not been for Jason's driving.

They caught every single red light on the way to the warehouse, which only served to fuel the fire of Jason's anger. He drove wildly, blew a few stop signs, and almost rammed into a minivan stopped at a red light before a cop car pulled up behind him and flashed its lights, pulling him over. Both men had groaned in unison when they realized it was Commissioner Spencer, taking a break from his important duties to make a traffic stop.

Sitting still and quiet and calm as Lucky interrogated him about his erratic driving was the hardest thing Jason had done. In the end, Sonny came to the rescue and fed Lucky some bullshit story about Kristina and Alexis getting into it yet again and the two of them trying to hurry over to mediate. Lucky, who had heard all about the mother-daughter duo's many (often public) quarrels, left them alone and continued on his way to the precinct as Jason pealed away toward the harbor.

And in the end, he was too slow, too burdened, too late.

Morgan was reading aloud from the contract of sale in his hand as Molly and Chase stood nearby, pens poised in their hands, ready to sign off as witnesses.

"And I, Morgan Stone Corinthos, do on the date of November the sixth, two-thousand-thirty-five, transfer full use and dominion of my independently and jointly owned shares in the Corinthos-Morgan organization, including all companies, subsidiaries, trademarks, registered entities, and proxy capabilities thereof to my partner Jacob Martin Webber and his heirs and assigns, in addition to all realty owned independently by myself or jointly with the aforementioned party in fee simple absolute, for one dollar and other good and valuable consideration."

Sonny choked on air at that part as he and Jason burst into the conference room.

He scrawled his name on the dotted line, and for Jason, it seemed like everything was moving in slow motion.

"Signed," Morgan said, passing the paper over to Jake. And Jason could only watch, helpless, as his son clicked his pen and lowered it to the sheet, making the biggest mistake of his life.

Done, he passed the documents over to Molly and Chase, who signed on the appropriate lines. Jason realized belatedly that all the other signatures must have already been filled in; now, they were simply executing the final agreement, which explained why the transaction document was no longer than a single page.

Molly blew on the sheet, drying the ink from her pen, and passed the paper to Jake. He looked it over and, pulling a dollar from his wallet, handed both to Morgan. Morgan pocketed the bill and passed the documents over to the notary without even glancing at them. Kristina smiled, her eyes glassy.

'You did it."

Morgan's mega-watt grin reached his eyes when he turned toward his half-sister, and then his best friend and former partner. "We did."

Jake took the outstretched hand Morgan offered and, clasping it, used it to pull him into a hug as Sonny leaned a hand against the doorjamb for purchase. Even from across the room, a lifetime away, Jason could see his son's lips form two words.

_Thank you._

Molly clapped her hands when they pulled apart and stood on her toes to kiss Jake's cheek. "Congratulations. Everything's the way it should be."

Jason would have died before agreeing with that.

As it was, Sonny shared the same feelings, and his body trembled with palpable rage as he lifted a shaky finger toward the kids.

"The way it should be." His obsidian eyes blazed at the audacity in that statement. "How can you say that? Do you know what you just did? Do you have _any idea what you just did?!_"

Morgan didn't back down, and gave his father a look of such assured self-confidence and smug conviction that Jason had to blink to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him.

"I know exactly what we did, Dad," came his smooth, deliberate reply, and for a moment Jason and Sonny both lost sight of the little boy they raised and loved and saw instead the Hammer, the nickname given to Morgan by the few colleagues that were lucky enough to see him in action in the courtroom as a representative of the State's Attorney's office. "We did what we should have done years ago. _Years_ ago. And it's done. It's finally, finally done."

He sounded elated but more importantly, relieved, and Jason could not for the life of him understand why. What did Morgan have to be relieved about?

"It's the start of both our lives."

Sonny wasn't having any of it. "Don't give me that bullshit; it just proves to me that you have no idea what you just did. You signed over the business that _I_ built, that Jake should have never had any part of-"

Morgan rolled his eyes as Jake's features hardened into a perfect mask. "I'm not discussing this, Dad, if that's the peg you're going to keep hanging your hat on. We've discussed nothing but for the past few years and it's obvious we're not going to get anywhere. We done here?"

"Yes, sir, Mister Corinthos," the notary nodded. "The matter's concluded. Will I be driven back to town hall or should I call a cab-"

"One of my – Jake's men will take you," Morgan assured him, tipping his head toward Chase who immediately texted a lower-level guard to report to the door. "Thank you."

"You're done, too, Morgan," Kristina informed him with a smile. "I've got everything I need, and the loose ends should all be tied up in about three business days. Jake, there's one more thing I need you to sign."

She handed him a printed form that Jason didn't recognize and when he stared at it, slid it under his nose. The corner of his mouth quirked up and Jake readied his pen. Kristina and Molly watched over his shoulder as he methodically filled in every blank line on the form, and even Morgan stood back and waited, his expression soft. Chase was smirking and had to turn away from the group and look out the window as he waited for it to be over.

"…Done."

Kristina let out a breath she'd been holding and gingerly took the form from him. Jake capped his pen and leaned back in his seat, watching her quickly scan it. He didn't look at Jason once, didn't particularly feel the need to, and his eyes were shining when Kristina finished and looked down at him.

Biting her lip to contain her smile, she slipped the form into her files as Jake rose to his feet. "I have a copy of your license already. I'll make sure the social security office makes the necessary changes, and I'll get your new card to HR and the DMV. The whole process should take no more than two business days – I'll make sure your new identification is expedited."

She held out her hand, her eyes glittering vividly, and Jake clasped it warmly.

"Congratulations. Jacob Morgan, you are now the sole owner of the Morgan Organization."


	61. Make a Kingdom Burn

**Mean | 60**

_Even a bird would want a taste_

_Of dirt from abyssal dark; _

_The prick of a feather_

_Could make a kingdom burn_

_And bloodshed start._

-- "Of Moons, Birds, & Monsters," MGMT

Ever since he was a kid, the Morgan name held an unspeakable amount of intrigue for him. It wasn't until Jake had learned the story of Adam and Eve in that awful Catholic Sunday school Elizabeth made him attend before he announced that he was leaving the religion and no amount of her cajoling or crying or guilt-tripping was going to make him go back. It was then that he realized it: the Morgan name was the apple and Jason was the snake.

Every time he saw the man after that, the suggestion and implication was clear. _Take my name. Take what I wouldn't give you. Take what you can't have. Prove to me that you can take it and make it yours._

It wasn't that he didn't like the name 'Webber.' He did. It was a good, strong, clean name. It was hardly stained by the blood that Jason's name was. But the problem with the Webber name – the problem that had always existed with the Webber name – was that it wouldn't ever get him anywhere.

He'd stopped thinking of himself as a true Webber not long after he found out that he was a Morgan. Even when he thought he'd die a Webber and take the secret of his other name to his grave, Jake always knew in the back of his mind that it would come out sooner or later. And it had to, if he was going to realize his true potential.

The Webber name wasn't much good anymore, not for anything. The memory of the great Steve Hardy, honorary Webber as his mother's grandfather, had faded with the years. Jeff Webber was hardly a memory at all in this town, nor his brother Richard, nor Heather or Carolyn or Sarah or Steven Lars. And as for Ms. Elizabeth Webber, she was just a nurse and just a single mother. She made a pretty picture of a woman's strength and determination, she made a good story about the American dream, but that was pretty much it.

He'd always felt pulled away from the clarity (and even purity) of the Webber name, attracted to his father's dark, dangerous name. It was forbidden to him, and so Jake had to have it. In his mind, he had become Jake Morgan a long time ago and this, this form sitting in front of him now, was just a formality.

He signed his name to the dotted line and clicked his pen shut, hearing the sound echo through the room.

Kristina was smiling. Molly was smiling. Morgan was smiling, and Chase was smirking. Jake didn't even think to look, but if he had, he knew Jason wouldn't have been smiling.

And somehow, that made it better.

"Congratulations, Jacob Morgan. You are now the sole owner of the Morgan Organization."

He took her smaller, warmer hand in his and held on tight, letting her know in that simple gesture that he wouldn't have been able to get here without her. Kristina Stephanie Corinthos Davis already had her father's last name, but she knew, perhaps better than anyone in their group, how important it had always been for him to take his father's name. Not to be given it, like she had been, but to take it on his own and without permission.

It made the apple much sweeter that way.

Moments passed. Time and space stretched between them and at the other end of the room, the snake hissed and pulled away into the shadows.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Thank you."

"You don't have to keep saying that, you know," Morgan smiled at his old friend. It had been the twentieth time Jake repeated those words. "This was our plan all along, you knew we'd get here. Besides…you know I always have your back."

Jake was staring at the papers that stated the extent of his ownership of his father's business. Former business. From the somewhat dazed look in his eyes, it was as if he still couldn't fully believe it.

"It finally happened." He turned sharp azure eyes up to Morgan's. "We finally did it. I got in. You got out. Nothing up in the air anymore, nothing left in the middle."

"Clean break," Morgan agreed with a grin, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs on top of the conference table. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Feels like such a relief," Molly whooshed, plopping down across from him. She tucked her heels and spun around a couple times. "And, just think, we've been building toward this for years, ever since you took over for your dad and asked him to retain some of the properties. Actually…we've been building toward this since we were kids, in that stupid old tree house. Did we _really_ come up with this all the way then?"

"Not the details of it," Jake laughed, thinking back to the six-year-old version of himself, reeling from the discovery. "We had the bare bones of it, though, I like to think."

"Don't take it _too_ easy," Kristina cautioned, looking through her file once more for good measure as she moved around the table. "And for God's sake, don't let your guard down, any of you. The hardest part is yet to come. Morgan, you're crazy if you think Daddy's going to take this lying down. He thought you took the territories under your name a long time ago. When you made Jake partner, he was told by people you two tricked that he didn't own anything anymore and because of that, couldn't stop you. He'll find out that up until a few hours ago, he retained possession of all those shady holdings and that you were just acting as a straw to transfer it all to Jake. He'll come after you for that; if he's really mad, he'll get Diane on it and do it the right way."

"Dad's not going to sue me for fraud," Morgan scoffed. "…But just to be safe, I'll lay low for a while."

"And Jake, you've got more work to do now than ever. You, too, Moll."

Her sister was on the same page. "You mean the Five Families."

Kristina nodded. "Daddy'll be Mister Rogers compared to those guys. I've already scheduled a meeting with them – the sooner the better to establish the legitimacy of the new ownership – and we've got to be prepared like we've never been before."

Jake nodded. "I know. I've been preparing on my own for a while. You'll come over to the house later tonight so we can go through everything beat by beat?"

Molly was clicking away on her laptop, shaking her head. "You can't tonight. You're having dinner with Lia's folks."

"What? Why? –Oh."

"That's right," she finished with a firm nod. "You're informing them of your new position personally. You said when we first started hammering this out that you didn't want Mr. Z finding this out through someone else, that it was important that you told him yourself."

"Right, right," Jake murmured, scratching his chin before hesitantly looking over at her. "And Lia knows, right? She'll be there?"

Molly nodded. "Lia was the one that set the date. She's already at Crimson Manor, has been almost all this week, so she'll be there."

"Good." He got up from his seat and moved past his former partner and toward the door, signaling for Chase to follow. "I'll get ready for that. Kay, I'll have the papers I need on my desk by the time I get to Morgan Manor, right?"

"I'll fax them over in five minutes," she promised, already setting them aside. "See you tomorrow."

Jake strode down the hallway of his warehouse – _his_ – and headed for the elevator. Chase held the doors and climbed on after him, and they rode down in silence. Jake was bouncing on the balls of his feet without even realizing it, and Chase knew better than to point it out. They were all excited, all five of them, about what had transpired in that room such a short time ago. This was just the beginning, even though it had taken long enough to get here.

A junior guard was waiting by the side of the car as they exited the building and held the door open as they approached.

"Mister Webber."

Chase grinned and put a hand on Jake's shoulder, ushering him into the car as he always did out of habit. "Sorry, kid, better forget that."

"Yeah," Jake tossed in, grinning at the new guard as Chase slid across to the other seat in the limo. "It's Mister Morgan now."


	62. Just A Little Boy

**Mean | 61**

_When I was just a little boy_

_I asked my mother, _

_What will I be?_

_Will I be handsome?_

_Will I be rich?_

_Here's what she said to me._

-- "Que Sera, Sera"

**.: Morgan Warehouses :.**

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself as she watched Jake stand in front of the mirror in one of the spare offices that he used somewhat as a changing room when he had to. Jason was behind her and she could feel the heat radiating from him and instinctively leaned back to be closer to him.

Jake's expression was unreadable as he fussed with his tie, fiddling with the long and short ends. Sonny paced around in the background, coming into and then leaving the view of the mirror. He glanced up as his own son entered the room but before he could say anything, Morgan moved past him. After depositing a few files he held on the table, Morgan moved toward Jake and brushed his hands away, adjusting the lengths of the silk tie before commencing to form the knot. His best friend was absolutely hopeless with ties, after all.

Elizabeth glanced at the files on the table. Morgan had taken inconspicuous care to push them out of eyeshot so she couldn't read anything that was peeking out, but the name on the post-it placed on top stuck out as if it was flashing in neon.

_Jake Morgan 11-10 meeting._

That was his new name. He'd changed it four days ago, apparently, from what she heard around town, and he never said anything of it to her. What Elizabeth didn't know was that Jake didn't mention it because he honestly couldn't figure out a way to broach the subject to her without making it sound like he was forsaking her and her family name, so he didn't say anything at all. It was hardly a solution, but it was just the way it happened.

Elizabeth swallowed roughly, barely aware of it when Jason's fingertips skimmed the small of her back. Morgan was almost finished with Jake's tie, and she knew he'd be leaving soon. She didn't know where he was going; all she knew was that when she, Sonny, and Jason finally worked up a game plan to come talk to him and convince him to stop all this, they'd been curtly told by one of the guards that 'Mister Morgan would be leaving shortly for a prior engagement and had only five minutes' for them.

She never thought she'd see the day when she had to make an appointment to see her own child.

But then again, part of her told she shouldn't be surprised. Jake was 'important' now. Even more so, now that he owned everything free and clear and had changed his name. The little boy that she used to bring juice boxes to in that rickety tree house out back was now slated to become one of the most wealthy, powerful men in the country.

The national media was starting to pick up on it. Before, it was mostly the local agencies in New York, and later, when the paternity secret came out, those in the greater New England area, that knew who he was and what his background was and just how amazing his meteoric rise to the top was. But now, slowly but surely, the national media was starting to realize that Jake Webber – now Morgan – would prove to be a force to be reckoned with. It started when he was seen having lunch with the mayor of New York and then, later that very week, an extremely powerful and high-profile New York senator.

The media dug into his background, the parts of his life that Jake actually let get out into the public record, found out about his humble upbringing and incredibly soapy paternal secret (if she had to hear one more remark likening her life to a cheesy soap opera, Elizabeth was going to hurt someone) and his circle of powerful friends both old and new, and dubbed him the 'Wunderkind' and was featuring him more and more. The very first time she was leafing through a trashy magazine in the break room and saw his picture, Elizabeth had been shocked. She doubted the feeling would fade away even as he started appearing in more magazines and more television news or gossip programs.

A soft sigh escaped her lips. "…I should have known we'd all end up here."

The men all looked at her strangely, Sonny and Jason because this wasn't part of the rehearsed script, Jake and Morgan because it was the first time she'd said anything, but Elizabeth was still staring at the name on the post-it.

"I should have known that this was how it would happen if we stayed quiet." Slowly, she lifted her eyes to her son's. "And I should have stopped it."

He was watching her openly until then but when she said those words, something flickered in Jake's eyes and the mask she so often associated with Jason came down. He turned away to check his reflection in the mirror, satisfied with Morgan's handiwork, and tightened the knot. Morgan remained gazing somberly back at her, knowing she needed to say this even though Jake didn't need to hear it.

"All of it was happening right under my nose," she said sadly, drawing a sympathetic look from Morgan and Sonny. "And I didn't pay any attention. I ignored it. I told myself it was nothing, because as long as it was nothing, as long as it was just a coincidence, it meant that I hadn't failed. I hadn't failed at protecting you, at keeping you safe."

Only Morgan was close enough to hear Jake snort. No one else heard him or even noticed the almost imperceptible movement of his shoulders.

"It meant that everything was fine, that you'd grow up happy and safe and that me and Jason…didn't stay away from each other all those years for nothing. That we didn't give up our happiness and our lives together for nothing."

She rubbed her forehead with her hand, blinking to keep the wetness at bay, and Jason's touch on her back became firmer, more comforting.

"I should have seen the signs." Elizabeth had her chin propped up in her hand, her fingers over her mouth, and the words were partly muffled. "I should have seen them. God, there were so many. All the time you spent with Morgan up in the tree house. How Michael started spending time with you kids when he _never_ used to before. How you started calling Lucky 'Pop' instead of 'Dad' like you did since you could talk."

Jake adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, tugging them into place. Only when he was satisfied did he reach for his suit jacket.

"How much time you spent with Johnny, how often you talked about him." She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "You started admiring him so much. How Amalia was always over, how you never left her side until you had to…"

He stiffened at the mention of her name in his mother's memory but said nothing.

"When you'd go to target practice with Morgan and Jax." Her voice cracked on the last two words. "When you went out and got a gun permit during college behind my back…"

Morgan cleared his throat when Sonny swung around to look at him and felt the need to interject. "With all due respect, Ms. Webber, we'd reached the age of majority when Jake got his gun permit. Cameron got one the same year, but that doesn't seem to be nearly troubling you as much."

She ignored that part. "There was no need-knowing who Jake was, all of you knowing it, knowing that Jason was his father and what he did for a living – there was no need for you all to-"

"There was absolutely a need," Morgan countered, his quiet voice cutting her off. "We knew what we were doing, even back then. We had to lay a proper trail. To get where he wanted to get, Jake had to have a legal license to own, operate, and store firearms. It's why I got Jax to take us with him when we were kids. All our visits to the target range outside of Port Charles were documented.

"When we were at Yale, we went to the county clerk after our residence changes were filed and got our permits, then bought guns from established dealers and found _one_ range where we all went. We made sure to take Cameron, too, when he came up to visit so that it wouldn't look strange, just like a couple old friends that grew up in upstate New York doing this sort of thing. We had to lay a trail instead of Jake coming into the organization and immediately carrying, all rushed. He needed the necessary documentation for this job without looking like it was all abrupt. We knew we'd be investigated by the authorities and media alike, we had to establish some sort of legitimacy if this was going to work and not blow up in our face."

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she remembered their days at Yale, back when Jake would call her every other day just because, back when she had never felt closer to her little boy even though there were a couple states between them.

"All the way back then…you started planning this, details like this, all the way back then."

Morgan scratched the back of his head. "Well…before that, really. Some of it long before that. But yes."

"How long?" Jason asked, his voice sounding rough and strained. He couldn't help it: he had to know beyond a doubt. "How long before? When did you _really _start working out the details?"

"Most of the details we hammered out when we were teenagers," Morgan admitted. "Fourteen, fifteen, in there somewhere. Jake?"

"Yeah," his friend grumbled, sliding his arms into his jacket.

"But the actual plans, doing this, taking the business, me first and then Jake taking control of the whole thing…We had to have figured that out when we were about six or seven."

Jason leaned back against the desk, his lips parted in disbelief. "What could you _possibly _have known about this business at that age?"

Morgan spared him a bland look. "You and Dad weren't nearly as good at keeping secrets as you thought. We _all_ knew what you two did for a living. We knew you sold coffee, we knew you had your hand in the local government, we knew you made lots of money, and we knew you killed people."

"And you wanted that." He could barely wrap his head around it. "You _wanted_ all of that?"

His nephew smiled sadly at him as Jake adjusted his lapels. "If you owned and operated an ice cream truck, we would have wanted that."

"Big difference between the mob and a goddamn ice cream truck," Sonny growled, placing his hands on his hips as he stared down his youngest son. "You signed away everything I built behind my back, like a coward."

"Yeah, I did it behind your back," Morgan fired back, reserving none of the respect he'd used while speaking to Elizabeth. "I was only too happy to get unload it. Since I was thirteen, you and Uncle Jason started in on me. You wanna run the business, Morgan? You wanna be powerful and rich like your father, Morgan? You wanna order people around and be famous, Morgan? _Thirteen_ – I was thirteen fucking years old. Who does that?"

"You were my only heir," Sonny retorted, "the only one that could take the business after what happened to your brother."

"You're right about that," he agreed tightly. "Mike would never want any part of this business. He'd die before taking it. He'd die before putting Mom through that kind of pain again."

Elizabeth's eyes flicked toward Jake, but he was brushing lint off his sleeve and not looking at her.

"But you're forgetting someone." He tipped his head to the side. "What about Kay?"

Sonny blinked. "Kris-Kristina wouldn't have wanted my business."

"You never asked her if she did or not."

"She wouldn't have, and Alexis would never have let-"

"Oh, I think we both know by now that Kristina knows how to handle Alexis when she has to."

Sonny's eyes narrowed. "…The business is no place for…"

"For a woman," Morgan finished firmly. "That's right, that's what you've always thought, that's what you've thought all your life. Forget the fact that she's brilliant, that she's competent, that she _actually wanted a part of it_ – she's a girl, so naturally that pure biological coincidence precludes her from getting what she wanted and what she would have deserved at law as one among your issue."

"Don't start with that bullshit legal-"

"It really doesn't matter now, though," he shrugged. "She's successful. She's powerful. People know her, people listen to her, people respect her. And she did it with the help of her _mother_, who's the same exact way. And on top of all that, she's Jake's right hand. She and Molly are the most powerful women in the organization – the most powerful _people_ right after Jake. They run it with him, they have since he joined. How does that make you feel, Dad?"

"It was never a part of what we planned-"

"Fuck your plan," Morgan replied, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Don't you both see by now that your plans mean nothing? None of it worked out the way you wanted, none of it will ever go back to what you wanted. I never wanted the business to begin with, and if you paid attention, you would have seen that. You would have seen that I was lying when I said I did, that I was bored when you were teaching me, that every time you told me to keep something secret, Jake was the one I told. And it's better this way. I never wanted _any_ of this, Dad. I had my own dreams since I was a kid, growing up around Alexis and Ric and Diane and Jax."

"Jax isn't a lawyer," Sonny grumbled petulantly.

His son closed his eyes, counting to three. "Jax is and always has been a good man who's supported me in everything I've done. Who _asked_ me what I wanted and tried his best to understand my reasons even when he wanted something different for me. Jax ran a clean ship and fought to give people their fair shake, and Alexis, Ric, and Diane – they never backed down and they _made_ people listen to them when they knew they were right. That was what I wanted for myself. I didn't want any of this. This business? It was a waste of my time, and I thought so from the beginning."

"Then why didn't you just tell me that?" Sonny shouted back. "If you told me that – if you ever _once_ told me that – it would have been done. I would have gotten rid of it."

"Exactly," Morgan replied quietly, making Jason take notice. From the sound of it, this was the closing argument. This was when Morgan showed that his opposing counsel had been tricked into agreeing with him. "You would have listened to me, Dad. You would have listened and taken it to heart if I was firm enough because what you love most about this country is that everyone can do what they want to do with their lives and you would have wanted that for me."

He slipped his hands into his pockets and continued. "You would have agreed, and you and Jason would have divided the business up and sold it off, piece by piece, to the highest bidder. You would have taken every single step and every single precaution to make sure that you were both completely out, and that your work with the organization would never come back to haunt me or Mike or CeeCee."

"Yes," Sonny agreed.

"And where would that have left Jake?" He looked over to where the other man stood. "He was my best friend since we were five. After we found out about who his father was, he felt more like a brother than anything else. The business was Uncle Jason's, and Jake wanted it. Wanted it ever since he was a kid. He had more of a right to it than I did, really. He'd have lost it all if I didn't step up, and there would have been nothing he could do about it, no recourse left for him."

"I wanted the business that badly," Jake agreed, speaking up for the first time. "I didn't ask him to, but Morgan promised he'd take it over even though he didn't care about it, and that he'd turn it over to me when I was ready. We made that promise in the tree house and we've stuck by it."

He turned to his best friend. "You helped me get my foot in, no matter the cost, and made me partner. And now…you've wasted enough of your life with this. You're moving on to what you've always wanted to do."

Jake clapped him on the back and scooped the files off the desk just as Chase and Penn appeared at the door, ready to usher him out. "I'll call you afterwards."

Morgan nodded and watched the three men depart. Jason and Sonny, who found themselves thinking that this meeting had not gone anywhere close to what they'd planned, leaving them all at square one, sighed and leaned wearily against the desk, both of their arms crossed over their chests.

Jason, who still looked a little preoccupied, glanced at the door. "…Where did he say he was going?"

"He didn't," Morgan replied, pulling his Blackberry out of his pocket when it chirped. "It's a Five Families meeting."

Jason leapt to his feet, knocking Elizabeth with his arm and making her stumble, and Sonny did the same. "What?"

"Five Families meeting," he replied casually, glancing at the car as it pulled out of the lot in front of the warehouse. His father and uncle had no idea where the meeting was and could just dig that up on their own, and Jake had let him know not to lie if they asked what he was up to that day. He figured it was for the shock value. "To establish the legitimacy of the new leadership now that the business has changed hands."

Sonny looked up at Jason, their expressions grim. Jason nodded and pulled his keys out of his pocket as Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand.

"We're going to that meeting."


	63. Pillars of Salt

**Note – **Do remember my convention for the Family heads. P, Q, R, S, T. Pozzi, Quaranta, Ragno, Sandoval, Tataglia. Nice and simple.

**Mean | 62**

_One minute I held the key,_

_Next the walls were closed on me_

_And I discovered that my castles stand_

_Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand._

-- "Viva La Vida," Coldplay

**.: Undisclosed Location in the Burroughs of New York City :.**

It was absolutely humiliating.

Jason seethed quietly, his hands tightly gripping the armrests of his chair, as he watched the meeting commence. There was a time when all he and Sonny had to do was walk into such a room, such a meeting, and instantly command it. Hell, he'd spearheaded meetings like this on his own several times, when he absolutely couldn't get out of meeting with the other Family heads, and they'd all listened with rapt attention.

Not so anymore.

He and Sonny had enlisted Spinelli on this sensitive issue and within ten minutes, the man had pinpointed the location of the meeting and Max was gunning it to get there on time. When they had arrived, the two of them expected to be let right in, business as usual, but were coldly stopped at the door by two of Don Sandoval's men.

Sandoval was the oldest out of all of them – Pozzi, Quaranta, Ragno, and their old friend Tagliati – and had known Sonny and Jason the longest, which was why the fact that the men barring their entry were two of his finest was particularly insulting. Sonny had demanded to speak to Sandoval and was told that he couldn't. A few minutes later, Sandoval heard the commotion and, taking pity on them, came over to discuss the matter with them.

Jason had wanted to put his fist to the brick of the alley wall when Sandoval apologetically explained that this was a closed meeting, and one of the precautionary measures was that neither Sonny Corinthos nor Jason Morgan would be allowed to enter. Jason had demanded to know on whose authority such a rule had been staked, and that was when Jake came up behind Don Sandoval and announced that it was on his authority.

And Jason had been rendered speechless as Jake calmly explained that he and Sonny had nothing to do with the business anymore. Morgan wasn't a part of it, so they couldn't ride on his coattails. Sonny's claim by biology was negated, and Jason's invitation as predecessor in interest was revoked.

Sonny put up a big fuss – embarrassingly enough, he threw a tantrum – and Jake finally relented in a moment of ostentatious magnanimity and announced that they could attend a meeting 'just this once,' and he made it very clear that the two of them were not to do or say anything throughout the entire discussion.

And that was why Jason found himself gritting his teeth to near-powder as he watched the meeting happen around him. Jake sat at the head of the table, flanked by all of the Family heads as if he was at trial here. And really, he was.

(To add further insult to injury, two additional chairs had to be found and rolled up to the table for him and Sonny. They were seated at the far end, right across from Jake.)

This was a meeting to challenge the new leadership of the organization. Even though there was no vetting process when organizations changed hands either through transfer, theft, or intestacy, these meetings were a system of checks and balances. Jason had even been one of the members that conducted such a meeting and scared away a prospective organization member who proved to know nothing about the business he had inherited from his uncle and was as such tossed out.

Secretly, Jason hoped that Jake wasn't up to it. He wanted his son to fail. He wanted the Family heads to rip him apart and prove to him that he didn't know all he thought he knew about the business, that this wasn't his calling, that he didn't have what it took to be in this world. He hoped that Jake would get torn to shreds and have his ass handed back to him, so that he would _finally_ give this all up and go back to a job like the one Jax set up for him, safe and clean and far removed from this.

So far, the Family heads were certainly passing muster.

"Like Don Pozzi said, I don't like this," Don Ragno was saying. "I don't like this one bit. We pass down our businesses to those that were born into it, those that know it. Even my godnephew Floriano, even he is more capable of running my business than you are because he was _born_ into this life and he's seen it and is situated in it, and he's slow in the head! Even he is better than you."

Jake tipped his chin up but said nothing. He turned back and forth slightly in his swivel chair, his ankle resting on the knee of the opposite leg, his elbows on the rests, his fingers tented, his expression unreadable. Chase and Penn, both of whom stood behind him like silent sentinels, kept their impassive masks in place.

"Morgan was the good one," he continued. "Morgan was our good boy, our good, respectful, Catholic boy, well suited to being here with us. You, you can change your last name to anything you like, it won't make you good enough to be here."

"Morgan always knew what he was doing," Don Pozzi agreed. "Morgan had the good ideas."

"He was an idea man," Sandoval agreed, "just like his father back when he was in charge."

He turned and nodded at Sonny, who nodded back.

"Morgan was calm, composed, like a snake in the grass," Tagliati purred. "He never got excited, always waited until he saw his advantage, never let anyone rush him, never let anyone get him angry. And I think even you'd have to admit, that doesn't sound very much like you at all, Jacob."

Instead of saying anything the least bit disparaging about his best friend, Jake just smiled politely back.

"It was fine when you were just the partner," Quaranta groused, "we were fine with that. We all know you didn't do anything, anyway. You were lucky enough that the boy took pity on you because you're Jason's bastard- What? Oh."

Quaranta had been elbowed by Sandoval, who had noticed the glacial look on Jason's face at those words, and decided to wisely amend his words. At the other end of the table, Jake didn't look at all concerned.

"You were lucky enough that Morgan was a good boy and took pity on you and tossed you a bone," Quaranta revised. "You were all show, Jacob, all of us know that. Morgan was the idea man, and you've forced him out in a misguided attempt to make a name for yourself. Like my friend said, change your name to anything you like, but it won't do anything. It won't make a man out of you."

Chase slipped. He smiled, slowly, smoothly, wickedly, and the smile remained long enough for Quaranta to notice and hesitate. Quick as a flash, the senior guard regained his composure and Quaranta, who had looked as if he was going to continue, sat back uneasily in his chair.

'I doubt you'll find one supporter at this table," Don Pozzi said quietly, looking around at his colleagues. "Even your own father has spoken out about his doubts as to you taking over the organization."

Jake's eyes flicked down to Jason's, showing no surprise, and the lack of emotion there actually made Jason wince. Satisfied at the reaction he'd drawn out of the older man, Jake smugly looked away, turning a patronizing gaze over to Don Pozzi.

"He's enjoying this," Sonny murmured, his voice low enough so that only Jason heard. "He's actually enjoying it. I wonder why…"

"We don't approve of the way this organization changed hands," Pozzi continued, "and I think we can unanimously agree that we want Morgan back. That boy was born into this, Michael's first biological son. The business was always supposed to be his, even more so after what happened to his brother."

The men nodded respectfully at Sonny who nodded back.

"He's a good boy. He knew what he was doing. He was groomed by Michael and Jason personally since he was a boy; can you say the same for yourself?"

Chase and Penn exchanged glances; each man knew how even back then, Jake was the one that would feed Morgan information to regurgitate to his father and uncle so that they'd actually think he cared one way or another about the business. It was Jake's insight, perception, intelligence, and charisma that had gotten Morgan anywhere at all when it came to the stuffy associates he couldn't stand even at such a young age.

"He's one of us and always has been," Pozzi continued. "We received the announcement of his birth, we sent our respects, we were on hand for his baptism and when he received his first communion."

This time, Penn slipped and smiled. He smiled because Morgan and Jake had been baptized and received the sacraments at the same time, always. They wore matching suits and stood next to each other at the altar with Amalia and everything. They'd seen the pictures.

"We've worked with him for years," Pozzi forged on, stronger this time as he wondered what the guards were smirking at. That, coupled with Jake's almost good spirits, was most troubling. "We've seen him make several good deals, make excellent contacts, and we saw him avert disaster and save the entire organization _while_ being on trial for murder. He cleared not only his name, but John Zacchara's name when we suspected him of coming after Michael and Jason. There wasn't a thing that boy couldn't do when he set his mind to it."

He tilted his chin back and stared unflinchingly at Jake. "You can call yourself whatever you like, you're no Morgan."

Jake's expression remained placid, even though his trusted guards did tense at that remark.

"Agreed," Don Ragno boomed. "And aside from professional accomplishments, you'll understand, Jacob, that we have to look at a newcomer's personality and characteristics."

Jason thought for sure that Jake would have a scathing retort for the patronizing tone now directed at him, but his son simply turned his swivel chair slightly so that he better faced Don Ragno and listened calmly.

"One doesn't have to check with too many sources to learn that you've always been something of an entitled cut-throat." Ragno tipped his head to the side as he said this, daring Jake to challenge him or take offense. Jake did neither; to have done so would have been futile.

"We don't approve of how you took over the organization." He gestured to the transfer paperwork that Jake had provided even though he really didn't have to. "You took over the organization, all of its companies and subsidiaries and property for 'one dollar and other good and valuable consideration?' What kind of deal is that? Morgan is too smart to sign something like that – this looks like coercion, Jacob, and I'll say it plainly."

"It _was_ pretty shady," Sonny agreed, earning simultaneous glares from Chase and Penn for opening his mouth.

"Gentlemen." Jake rubbed his jaw, still not appearing too concerned. "I hear your concerns and am glad you took the time to voice them."

Don Sandoval looked offended by the bland statement, and was right to feel so.

"However, there's nothing left for me to say to you. Morgan and I certainly don't need your consent to enter into our own private agreements, and his signature on every single line of those documents is proof enough that we entered into this agreement willingly and that it is valid and enforceable and final. As for your personal concerns about me and the way I live my life, the fact that I'm not Catholic, the fact that you don't agree with my methodology, in all honesty, it hardly signifies for me, mostly because I'm well aware of who all of you are as men, as my professional peers now."

It was an insulting speech, cavalier and smug, and Jason expected nothing less. Jake delivered it well, too, and remained perfectly composed throughout the oration. His voice didn't waver, his breath didn't hitch, and his eyes didn't dart away from those of the men seated before him.

Don Ragno set his glass down abruptly on the table and the clack echoed in the large room. His steely grey eyes glittered angrily as he turned once more to the younger man.

"We've been kind to you thus far, Jacob."

Jason watched Jake flash him a false smile. "And I do so appreciate it."

"…But perhaps we've been too kind to you in holding our tongues." Ragno arched a brow at him, and Quaranta shot him a look, then glanced at Jason, who couldn't decipher the subtext. "There is also the matter of your most recent suicide attempt. I think it's in our best interest to discuss it if you are so set on being a part of our organization."

The foot he had balanced on his other knee hit the floor with a smack, and Jake sat up abruptly in his seat. Sonny and Jason, as they shot each other matching bewildered looks, realized that they were the only two men in the room that hadn't been aware of this.

Jason looked around the table at his former colleagues. "S-Suicide attempt? What?"

Jake glanced at him and if Jason had been looking at him, he would have seen the first sign of vulnerability in his boy's eyes, but quick as a flash, it was gone. "It was nothing. They have their information wrong. Not a big surprise, it's no secret that intelligence for the Five Families isn't what it used to-"

"What suicide attempt?" Jason interrupted, louder this time. "Tell me!"

Don Quaranta cleared his throat. "I believe it was around the time that Morgan started inspecting all the properties his organization owned. Smart thing to do, damn smart, cut the weight, give the state less in taxes, serves them right."

Don Sandoval cut off his friend's rambling. "I would have to double-check the precise dates my sources gave me, but it was around that time that Morgan was inspecting the properties. Pills and alcohol, wasn't it, Jacob? Your poison of choice?"

Jake glared at him and said nothing, the corner of his mouth twitching in thinly veiled anger.

"Your brother and Morgan found you unconscious and half-dead on the floor in your own house," Don Ragno added contemplatively. "And they cleaned up your mess as usual, didn't they? You were admitted into the hospital under a false name, your mother was intentionally set up in another wing of the hospital by your brother so she wouldn't come to know, your stomach was pumped, and you underwent psychiatric counseling. We all make our mistakes, Jacob, but you made several that night. And after all, there's no room for sloppiness in this line of work."

"Sloppiness?" Jake's eyebrows shot up and he leaned forward in his chair. "Ah, so we're anti-sloppiness now. Funny, where was this vigilance when your gun went off and you ended up shooting your second in command in the face?"

Don Ragno's cheeks slowly turned a dull shade of red. "That was an accident, I was merely-"

"Following in the footsteps of our most notorious former vice president," Jake filled in, "no, no, I understand completely. What I don't understand is why you didn't even get him to the hospital until a day and a half later, and why you didn't take care of his hospital bills. If you could provide some clarification on that, I'm sure we'd all appreciate it."

Of the rest of the men, only Don Quaranta, Don Pozzi, and Don Tataglia looked surprised; the others, including Sonny and Jason, were already aware of Don Ragno's hunting accident from three years ago.

"Don Ragno is not the one that has to answer for himself today," Sandoval said, trying to come to his friend's defense. "This is a necessary process to weed out those that do not belong with us, and all of us must think long and hard-"

"Long and hard," Jake repeated, snapping his fingers. "Long and hard – aren't those words on the label of a bottle of Viagra? You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Don Sandoval? Especially since, according to _my_ sources, you were recently hospitalized yourself."

The older gentleman turned pale. "There is no need-"

"If we're digging our skeletons out of the closet, why should I be the only one to display them?" Jake ground out. "By the way, I'm glad you're in good health now, Don Sandoval. Eight-hour erections are terrible business, I'm sure."

He stood to his full height and looked around the room, undaunted by the murderous glares shot his way. "Let me make a few things clear to you lot. I did not attempt suicide that night. Tell your 'sources' that you expect better than a half-assed job from them next time. I mixed my prescription medication with scotch and had an unfortunate reaction. It's not like I downed a lethal dosage of hydrocodone and fell into a coma."

He nodded at Don Tataglia.

"It's not like I took a few too many Mr. Happy pills."

He winked at Don Sandoval.

"It's not like I drank myself stupid and almost lost my liver."

Here, he nodded at Sonny.

"So get this straight, because I'll only say it one more time: I did not attempt suicide. And while I'm at it, let me help you get a few other things straight." He cracked his knuckles, his gaze absolutely lethal.

"You think you scare me. You think that your disapproval means something to me. You think I'll bend over backwards and do what you want like my two predecessors in interest over there did." Here, he actually lifted his hand toward Jason and Sonny.

"But you're wrong." His sweeping gaze was cool and not just a little proud. "Because you're forgetting something very, very important. Times have changed. And I don't need any of you the way that my father and Sonny did. You have absolutely nothing to offer me, nothing I need. And believe me, if you had something I needed, I'd take it."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in what would have otherwise been a disarming, puckish grin had he not been facing down the most powerful, historic mafia families in New York.

"Sonny and Jason needed you in order to get their shipments through a portion of the designated routes," he announced. "They also needed the protection you offered. I don't need any of that."

"You have no routes downstate to the Atlantic," Quaranta pointed out. "We worked out a deal with Michael, letting him use those routes back when he took over. That license passed to Jason and then Morgan, but we have absolutely no reason to pass it to you now, after the abuse you've insisted on dealing so-"

"I don't need your routes," Jake repeated. "I've worked out a much more beneficial arrangement with John Zacchara."

A hush fell and then the room erupted in chatter as the men discussed the news. Johnny Zacchara was the head of an established mafia family as well and had ties directly to some of the most powerful cartels in Italy and South America, and even the Families knew not to ruffle his feathers in any way. If Jake had joined with the Zacchara organization…

"What kind of deal?" Tataglia wanted to know. "You don't want to get in over your head with John, boy. Tell us, let us work something out with you."

"No need," he replied. "It's done."

"Whatever you're giving him, you're probably giving more than you bargained," Ragno reasoned. "He drives a hard bargain – not unlike his sister. If they're letting you use their local routes, they're milking you dry and you don't even realize it."

"It's very nice of you to be concerned, but, really, it's fine," Jake smiled sweetly. "Besides, I'm not giving John anything. I tried, to be sure, but he wouldn't accept anything. And I've never been one to turn down a well-meaning gift…"

His smirk grew when a few jaws in the room dropped at the thought that Johnny Zacchara had given him something so valuable for nothing.

"Aside from routes, I don't need the protection you offer. I have my own through the contacts I've made during my undergraduate career, and through the friends I've had since childhood."

Sandoval let out a disparaging laugh. "What, you do landscaping for the chief of New York police, did you? Is that your contact? Is that what you did?"

"One of my former roommates is a prominent congressman for the state of Massachusetts, where I conduct much of my business. The other is in the governor's office in addition to being a high-power lobbyist. And Morgan happens to be in the state District Attorney's office permanently now, so I think I'm good. Who needs crooked cops when you've got politicians and lawmakers? Thanks, though. Nice of you."

"Even with all that, you stand to make more money if you partner up with us in our operations," Tataglia pointed out. "Michael and Sonny always had a stake in our operations and always got their cut. You need our businesses for your profit margin, Jacob."

"I'll be just fine," Jake smiled. "The East Coast isn't the only place to do business, though I'm sure it's worked very well for all of you up until now."

"You're not talking about your set up in Vegas, are you?" Pozzi snorted. "Those are outposts, boy, you can't possibly realize significant returns on those until at least ten, fifteen years out."

"I'm talking about my plans for Chicago," he replied easily, "remind me to share them with you sometime."

He flicked his wrist, signaling to his men, and his easy demeanor bled away to be replaced by the familiar iciness. "So listen to me now when I tell you what _I _think of _you. _You've had your turn, now it's mine. I don't need you, any of you, for anything. I don't particularly care if you think I stole this organization from Morgan; I don't particularly care if you have an issue with the fact that I haven't been a Catholic since I was nine years old; and I don't particularly care whether you think I can do this or not. I certainly don't care if you want me in your group or not because as far as I'm concerned, that's never going to happen."

He looked around the room, meeting each man's gaze. "So let me tell you what you are, and why you are of no use to me. This system worked back in the day, but it's crumbling now. You can cling to the illusion but that won't make it real. Because you are all, as a group, archaic. Phony."

Jake's arresting eyes met Jason's, and the older man sucked in a quick breath of air.

"Obsolete."

He pushed himself away from the table, flanked by his loyal guards. "Have a good evening discussing _important business_, gentlemen. I'm always around if you meet me. Do try not to need me, yeah?"

Chase held the door for him and was the only one that could hear the words Jake muttered under his breath as he left.

"Stupid fuckers."


	64. Too Much Sometimes

**Note **– I realized while writing this chapter that I had Elizabeth saying things that made her sound really, really, irrevocably stupid. Not a far cry from the Elizabeth on the show, but still, when she said that nine years old was too young for a child to decide he didn't want to be a part of his religion, I knew I had to scrap it and tone it down, yeah?

**Mean | 63**

_And all I want to be_

_Is too much sometimes for me._

_Good morning, baby,_

_I hope I'm gonna make it through another day._

-- "Good Morning Baby," Bic Runga

**.: En Route To Port Charles :.**

"I don't think I should have done it."

"_Whoa, I don't know who you are, asshole, but you put Jake Morgan back on the phone right now."_

Jake frowned and slouched down in his seat as Chase merged onto the highway that would take them back home. "Oh, very funny."

Johnny Zacchara laughed. _"Try not to be so down on yourself. It's over, it's finished."_

"I made fun of his erectile dysfunction and subsequent eight-hour erection."

"_Okay, granted, that was a little cold."_

"I mean, if I had erectile dysfunction, I wouldn't want anyone else knowing about it, much less making fun of it."

"_It's what you get for having such thorough sources."_

"I guess."

"_Jake," _the laughter in his voice was still apparent, _"seriously, it's okay. It's done. It's over. You can't change anything. Let it go. Just deal with what's actually coming up, not what just happened."_

"I probably could have handled it better."

"_From what I hear, you handled it pretty damn well. They were attacking you – some of the things they said…Fuck, it's a good thing I'm not invited to these things, I probably would have broken a few ribs."_

"I guess."

"_Guess, nothing. They don't get to talk to you like that. It doesn't matter – the surrounding circumstances don't matter. They've known you since you were fifteen and worming your way into your father's business functions. And if they're dumb enough to believe that all those ideas were Morgan's…well, this isn't going to be their first rude awakening."_

"Ha."

"_There, see? Fuck 'em. Just fuck 'em. What you said was absolutely right: You don't need them. You'll never need them the way Sonny and Jason did. That's because you're not just going to stay in New York like they did. Hell, they barely branched out into New England, and that was one of the first things you did when Morgan brought you on. And you've got plans to go national, kid. You're never going to need them that way, not ever. And definitely not as long as you've got me."_

"Yeah, I have to admit, you gave me a lot of leverage in there. Thanks again for-"

"_I told you, stop thanking me. I'm happy to do it. I don't use those routes much anymore, I just own them. They might as well be put to good use, otherwise people will start getting ideas. And besides…I never wanted you at the mercy of those assholes, anyway."_

"Thanks, John."

"_I'm with you on this, Jake. You can come to me for anything, you know that."_

"I know."

"_Listen, I gotta go, but stop worrying about it, okay? Get some rest – don't you have a meeting scheduled for tonight?"_

"Yeah."

"_Then get some sleep, for God's sake. You've still got a bit of a ride left. I'll talk to you later. And listen?"_

"Yeah?"

"_Stop doubting yourself. You did fine today. They would have torn you down in any event, so stop angsting over it. It was a long time coming, kid, but you did good. Proud of you. Bye."_

Jake waited until Johnny hung up and then pressed the button on the mounted set. He let out a slow, controlled breath and slowly closed his eyes as they blew down the country highway.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: En route to Port Charles :.**

"…Do you think he really tried to kill himself?"

Jason's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter, if that was possible, feeling Sonny's eyes on him. "I don't know."

"It must have been when he found out that you and Elizabeth had that safe house, right? When he found out that the two of you had a relationship even after you walked away from him?"

"Yeah."

Sonny sighed and fidgeted in his seat, adjusting his safety belt. "Terrible stuff."

Jason swallowed roughly. "Yeah."

They drove in silence for a long time, following the straight country highway back upstate. The meeting had been a disaster, and the Family heads were furious with Jake and not too pleased with Jason, either, for letting things get this way because of the secret he insisted on keeping. Some of them were still offended that at the time Jake was born, Jason hadn't even told them the truth of his parentage so that they could have at least known and watched out for the boy and prevented this crisis that played out like something out of a bad Greek tragedy.

Eventually, they'd agreed to leave the boy alone and let him crash and burn due to his own hubris. Icaris flew too close to the sun and lost his wings; they were sure Jake Morgan, if that was what he was calling himself now, wouldn't be too far off. And just as Jake claimed not to need anything from them, the Families didn't really need anything from Jake, either. They were sorry to see a portion of their cut go since Jake no longer had to buy their protection, but other than that, they hadn't lost too much. So they agreed to let the little bastard hang himself with his own rope and told Sonny and Jason they were free to go.

"You gonna tell Elizabeth? About Jake's…thing?"

Jason pressed his lips together. He'd been thinking about that ever since they left the meeting, and there had only ever been one answer. The problem was, how he was going to bring himself to follow through on it.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Sonny nodded in agreement. Jason knew it was only because Sonny was hoping that once Elizabeth heard that Jake tried to kill himself, she'd pull out all the stops and get him away from this with Jason's help, and the business would somehow go back to Morgan or, better yet, to Sonny.

"Good. Good, you should. It's what's best for him, at any rate."

The corners of Jason's mouth curved down as he wondered, and not for the first time, if Sonny had ever really cared about what was best for Jake since the secret came out.

"Yeah, I know."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

His best friend was coming out of the office as Jake let himself into his home and grinned. "Hey, you're back."

"Yeah." He took off his scarf and looped it onto the coat rack, then took off his wool overcoat. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting some of my shit from your office," Morgan replied, gesturing to the files under his arm. "Figured we'd better separate our paperwork once and for all now."

"Probably a good idea," Jake agreed.

His friend grinned and held up his phone, which chirped at the arrival of another voicemail message. "Do you know how many angry messages I've gotten in the past four hours? Wanna take a guess?"

Jake laughed at that and flopped down on one of the armchairs in his massive foyer. Cecily had selected them herself, marveling over the cherry wood, and then had them reupholstered with Chinese silk.

"Oh, God. Let me guess, they're asking for my head on a pike."

"More like your balls on a silver platter," Morgan grinned. "No, no, I'm kidding. You'll be happy to know that the general consensus is that you're to be left alone…presumably to fail on your own."

"Great, vote of confidence," Jake smiled weakly. "So, uh, what did you hear?"

"Well, after I took all the expletives out of my father's message, it cleaned up to let me know that you're a suicidal jackass who made fun of Don Sandoval for not being able to get it up…then get it down."

He knew Morgan kept his tone light and easy on purpose, but it still rankled. Jake closed his eyes, feeling the onset of another massive headache. He'd have to schedule another appointment…

"They had no business digging that up."

"I know."

"We were _careful_."

"I _know_."

Jake swore under his breath and pounded his fist against the armrest of the chair. "They had no business knowing about that. I didn't want _anyone_ to know about that. Fuck, we were so careful. I used a fake name, you guys had alibis if you came to see me, we used our own nursing staff. Fuck."

"Look." Morgan came to stand by him, his hands in his pockets. "It's over now. It happened, they know, they threw it in your face, it's over. It's out. You know how close they can get if they want to; now all you have to do is just cover your tracks better. And you know how to do that. You'll be fine, man, it'll be okay."

"I guess."

"…And Uncle Jason was there when they…?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And, what?"

"And, what did he do? Did he say anything? What happened?"

Jake shrugged weakly. "I don't know. He didn't say anything."

Morgan let out a short, impatient breath. "What did he look like?"

"I don't know."

"How could you not know?"

"I wasn't looking at him, all right?"

He knew what Jake was saying without explicitly doing so, and Morgan let it go. "Fine. Okay. Look, it's okay. Who gives a shit, man? You know the truth and so do we: you didn't try to kill yourself. You couldn't do something like that to yourself."

This got him a weak, sad little smile, and Jake quickly look away. "Sometimes…I wonder."

Morgan frowned and slowly drew closer. "What do you mean?"

"I wonder what I would do to get away from this," he admitted quietly. "When it came out…I begged Lia to run away with me. God, I _begged_ her. I never begged anyone for anything, but I begged her. And then Cameron, with the pills…I hated them at first, really did. Still did when I told him I wouldn't take anymore. But they made things easier. It became easier to justify taking a whole one instead of just a half, just enough to take the edge off. Sometimes, I want to be back on them just because they made me feel so…far away. And I wonder, I really wonder, what I would do to get away from all this…"

He trailed off helplessly as Morgan stared down at him, and was only snapped out of it when his best friend smacked him upside the back of the head.

"Quit being so fucking emo, man. I thought you grew out of that in college."

That got Morgan the laugh he was going for, and he smiled down at his old friend. "Look, I'm not going to pretend I know what it's like to be you. I never once pretended to know anything about what you were going through. But just believe me when I say this, knowing you, knowing you all your life and knowing what you're capable of, I know that you would never do that to yourself. You'd never do it to yourself, you'd never do it to your mom or Cameron, and you'd never do it to me or Amalia. You just wouldn't."

"And how can you be so sure?"

"Because you've always been the kind of guy that hated the easy way out," Morgan replied easily. "Remember back in high school? When I used to say that I wanted my dad to just buy me my grades? Remember how you ripped on me for even thinking that? You've always hated the easy way out, never chose it for yourself. And what you're saying, Jake, that's the easiest way out."

"Doesn't _feel_ easy."

"Of course it doesn't," he allowed. "It's a fucked up situation, obviously, that gets you to that place where you even start thinking about that. But you know better than anyone that the kind of escape being offered there…it's the easy one. That escape, period, is easy. It's why you never left on your own. You had all the resources and all the opportunities in the world to get out of Port Charles and, I don't know, set yourself up on some private island somewhere where you could just drink things out of a coconut until you died. But you never did it."

"Ever occur to you that maybe I just hate being alone?"

"You like being alone," Morgan smiled. "You say you're always in good company when you're alone."

Jake laughed at that, knowing he was right, and Morgan clapped him on the shoulder.

"Try not to get too down about it, okay? You're just going through a rough patch."

"You sound like my mom."

"Well, think about it," he shrugged. "Big changes were just made. You faced down the firing squad. You had your parentage thrown in your face for the billionth time in your life, despite everything you've done to try to own it so that it couldn't be used as a weapon against you. You're just nervous, that's all it is. I know it's a new feeling for you, but suck it up. You're nervous about doing all this by yourself now, but it'll pass. You'll be just fine. You just need to feel settled again and you'll see that you'll do just fine."

"So what do you recommend, if you're on a Dr. Phil jag?"

"I recommend that you do something that calms you down, something you enjoy, something that's familiar," he shrugged. "Always works for me when I'm stressed out because of work. You know, soccer at the community center with the kids, riding the Spoon Island trails with Spencer…"

"Sex with high-priced escorts?"

"Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it," Morgan grinned.

Jake laughed along. "No, thanks, not my thing. More power to you, though."

"Yeah, yeah. Listen, I gotta get going, but…you gonna be all right?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Jake assured him, wearily pushing himself to his feet. "I gotta get ready for a meeting, anyway, no time to sit around and be emo."

"Well, thank God for that." Morgan waved over his shoulder and headed for the door. "See you later."

"Yeah."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

"They did what?"

"Ripped into him," Jason admitted, "just cut into him. Laid out all the ways he wasn't fit to be a part of the organization."

"Well, good," Elizabeth huffed, folding her arms over her chest. "Maybe that'll give him a moment to stop and think. What did they say?"

"They said that the way he took over, it was shady and it looked like he'd coerced Morgan into giving up the business."

"Well, it was shady, even if it wasn't coercion," she murmured, sinking down into her seat across from him at the kitchen table. Two mugs of coffee and a matching porcelain cat salt and pepper shaker set sat between them. "What else?"

"They had a problem with the fact that he's not Catholic."

"They would."

"They told him that he could change his last name to whatever he wanted, but he was no Morgan – they could have meant me, or Sonny's Morgan, or both – and he wouldn't ever be good enough to be in the organization with them."

Elizabeth winced at that. "Oh, no."

"And…" Jason cleared his throat and looked away, not knowing how to phrase what he knew had to come next. "…They brought up his suicide attempt."

She stared at him for a painful few seconds and then let out an awkward laugh. "What? Don't make things up, Jason, Jake didn't try…to commit…"

Elizabeth trailed off, her lips parted, and he swallowed uneasily. He had yet to touch his coffee, so his fingers tapped restlessly on the surface of her table.

"It happened after he found our safe house."

Her eyebrows drew together, and her lips pursed into a disbelieving frown. "No, it couldn't – he didn't – Jason, he never tried-"

"It was at his place," he continued, knowing that if he didn't get this out right now, he'd let her shout him down and insist that Jake had never tried to hurt himself. "The house he bought. It happened that night, after he threw your easel out the window and left."

She sat back in her seat, her eyes dull, still shaking her head. "You're wrong, you have to be wrong. He _wouldn't_, Jason."

"He was so angry with us then," Jason murmured, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. "Don't you remember? He figured out that we were still living together even after I said I couldn't see him anymore."

"He hit you," she got out quietly, remembering that awful afternoon. "You had a black eye and a cut on your cheek for a week."

He nodded. "And after that, we think he went home and…"

"You're sure?" Elizabeth's voice was thick and cracked slightly. "You're sure, Jason? You have to be sure, you can't tell me that he tried to do this without being sure."

"I'm not," Jason admitted, and they let out a breath of relief at the same time. "He says he didn't do it. But Don Sandoval told me that he and Don Quaranta had their men look into it and…"

"How did he do it?" She quickly wiped away a lone tear that escaped and cleared her throat. "How did he try to do it? Do you know?"

"Pills and scotch," he responded automatically. "Wait, maybe whiskey…"

It didn't matter, and he didn't know why he paused to debate the detail. Elizabeth had her head in her hands, no doubt imagining her son downing a lethal dosage of Vicodin and chasing it with half a tumbler of the hard stuff.

"Oh, my God…"

"Morgan found him in his library," Jason continued quietly. "Cameron got him to the hospital and had his stomach pumped immediately. Saved his life."

"Cameron?" Her deep blue eyes glittered with fresh tears. "Cameron knew?"

He nodded. "He supervised Jake's treatment, got him to sit down to one-on-one psychiatric sessions with Mal…"

"Oh, God." She wanted to throw up. "Cameron and Morgan and Mal…that means the rest of them knew, too. Where was I? How come I didn't – I bet even that witch Nadine knew. She _always_ knows everything about my own son before I-"

Jason actually jumped a little when she pounded her small fists against the surface of the table before burying her face in her hands again. "Eliz-Elizabeth, it wasn't your fault."

"My son almost died," she got out shakily, "and my other son knew, and they both hid it from me. He almost _died_, Jason."

"He says he wasn't trying to-"

"That doesn't change the fact that I almost lost him." Elizabeth got up so fast that Jason didn't even realize what she was doing until she was halfway out the room. "No more."

"Elizabeth?" He almost tripped on the leg of his chair as he followed her out, watching her head to the closet and pull out her coat and scarf. "What are you doing?"

"We're going over there right now," she announced, tossing his keys at him. "This ends now, Jason. I don't care what I have to do, but he's going to listen to us and he's going to stop this. Come on."


	65. You're All Argumentative

**Note – **The official Mean soundtrack (two volumes!) is now available at Solo Ensemble (link in the profile) in the Fanfiction Promos & Soundtracks forum up toward the top. I have crazy awesome cover art, lyric blurbs, personal story notes, mini-banners, AND links so that you can download the songs OR just listen to them without downloading. Pretty great collection, if I do say so myself. And I do.

**Mean | 64**

_Oh, there's a very pleasant side of you,_

_A side I much prefer._

_It's the one that laughs and jokes around,_

_Remember cuddles in the kitchen_

_Oh, but it's right hard to remember that_

_On a day like today when you're all argumentative_

_And you've got the face on._

-- "Mardy Bum," Arctic Monkeys

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

Jason would never have entered Morgan Manor – God, it was weird saying that – the way Elizabeth did. She reached across the car to the steering wheel and honked at the gate until the guards opened it, then drove right up to the front door, behind Jake's fully loaded and bullet-proof Mercedes with driver standing by, and marched up to the front door. She pushed her way in despite the guards' protests and wouldn't move no matter what they said. She wouldn't let them touch her when they gently tried to usher her into the guest parlor and instead demanded – very loudly – that she be taken to her son _immediately_.

"What's going on down here?"

Jake came trotting down the stairs, his hair freshly washed and dried, dressed in a different suit than the one he wore to the meeting that morning, and he didn't look very pleased to find the two of them standing in the foyer.

"You guys can go," he said, dismissing his men. "Tell Penn to meet me in my private offices and tell Chase to take the night off and get some rest. Make sure the car's ready. Go."

The men scattered, leaving the three of them alone in the grand foyer. As soon as Jake hopped off the last step, he marched across the room and toward his offices, and Elizabeth followed on his heels.

"We have to talk."

He held the door for her and let her into his office, which surprised Jason who was also in tow, but sighed impatiently. "I'm busy right now."

"Too busy for me?" she challenged. Jason was the only one that saw Jake roll his eyes, and the older man wondered if she really wanted to know the answer to that.

Jake's voice was the perfect pitch of patience. "What do you need, Mom?"

Elizabeth reached out and grabbed his arm, turning him around. Jake looked down at her in surprise, not used to being handled like that by his mother of all people. Firmly, she took the files from his hand and set them on the mantel above the fireplace that they were standing by. Jason remained behind her, backing her up, but not wanting to get too close at the risk of further putting his son on the defensive.

"We need to talk," she repeated quietly, but her voice left absolutely no room for argument. Jason imagined that this was how Elizabeth was with the boys during their rebellious teenage years. He knew enough to know that Jake had been quite a handful during that time. "Please."

Jake nodded automatically and remained where he was when she let go of him. "Yeah. About what?"

Elizabeth sucked in a deep breath. "I know what happened."

Jake stared at her.

She licked her lips. "To you."

He blinked.

"A couple weeks ago," she prompted.

Jake was slowly shaking his head. "…You're going to have to be more specific than that, Mom. Things happen to me all the time."

He probably didn't mean it as an allusion to his work with the mafia – or maybe he did – but Elizabeth flinched anyway at the reminder.

"With the pills and the scotch," she said softly, watching his eyes harden. "The day you found the safe house your father and I used."

Jason noticed that, to his credit, Jake's expression didn't change when Elizabeth used the words 'your father and I.' He remained composed, if not a little stony.

"That was nothing."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped as he moved past her to his desk, but not before snatching the files off the mantel. "How can you say that? How can you say it was nothing?"

"Because it was," he replied simply, dropping the files on his desk and not looking at either of them as he flipped open his phone.

Elizabeth stalked forward and covered his phone with her hand, pushing down to make him lower it. "You almost _died_."

"Almost isn't dead," Jake replied tightly. "A semantic distinction that's literally saved my life more times than I can count on one hand."

She flinched only slightly at his ugly remark. "They say you tried to commit suicide."

"Who says that? Jason?" He turned a pleasant smile on his father. "Yeah, I expected nothing less."

Elizabeth snarled at that, exhibiting the same protective nature she reserved for her kids, for Jason as well. "He's your father and he _cares_ about you whether you want to see that or not. We're your parents, Jake, and you can try to push us away all you want, but it will never change anything. And it definitely won't stop us from trying to protect you."

He sighed and turned slightly, flipping through his missed calls and text messages, but Elizabeth was nowhere close to backing down.

"Jake." She waited until he looked at her. "Nothing matters more than you taking care of yourself and being healthy. This…what happened, sweetheart, I'm willing to do _anything_ to make sure it never happens again. Anything you need."

He leafed through the first file and, finding nothing he needed to take with him, dropped it in his drawer. "Nothing happened in the first place, Mom."

"You were upset," Elizabeth filled in. "You thought that your father and I had our own life together and that we decided to keep you and Cameron out of it. It wasn't like that at all."

"I already know all this," he interrupted loudly. "And I haven't brought it up after the fact once to either of you, so you might pay me the same courtesy. It doesn't matter."

Elizabeth pursed her lips together and watched him place another file in his drawer next to the first one.

"Obviously, it does matter. It matters to you, otherwise you wouldn't act out against it."

He slammed his files down on his desk. "Mom, I'm not a stupid teenager slamming my door and playing the Cure-"

"And if it matters to you, then it matters to me," Elizabeth interjected loudly, silencing his protest. "You can pretend you're fine, but, Jake, I know you're not. And I'm willing to do whatever you need me to do to help you with this. There are things in your life that, obviously, aren't what you want them to be. And aren't what they should be."

Jason saw her eyes dart to Jake's files and to the locked box that he'd pulled out of his drawer, and knew instantly that she was referring to the business. It was the same way she'd talk when they discussed his life, back when he was the owner of the organization. The same disapproval tinged with fear was still there, all these years later, and he didn't blame her.

Jake hadn't caught on just yet, and somehow, Jason doubted he'd be as understanding.

"If there are things in your life that need to be…fixed o-or removed in order for you to get better, then I'm going to help you do that," she promised, "…even if one of those things is me."

Jake's shoulders slumped slightly and he braced his hands on the antique desk that separated them. "It was never you, Mom."

"Jake, I just want you to be happy," Elizabeth whispered. "I want you to…to be able to take care of yourself and be happy and fulfilled and challenged, and…maybe start thinking about how a business or a lifestyle that makes you want to do things that aren't healthy for you, isn't worth staying in."

There was no way to make it more explicit than that. Jake shoved the last of his files in the drawer, keeping on the ones he needed, and slammed it shut without breaking her gaze.

"Actually, I'm just fine with the business or lifestyle I have," he said plainly, mimicking her words. "It challenges me, it fulfills me, and whether you want to believe it or not, it makes me happy."

Her lips parted in shock and bewilderment. "It couldn't possibly – Jake, what you _do_ for a living-"

"-Is exactly what I want to be doing for a living," Jake finished firmly. "I've wanted this my whole life, and I'm more than happy to finally have it. It's not something I'll ever 'fix' or 'remove' from my life."

Her eyes filled with fresh tears. "Not even for me?"

His eyes narrowed just slightly and Jake reached for the locked box next to him. "Mom, a word of advice, don't try to emotionally blackmail me. It worked on Jason, so try to be thankful for that and not push your luck."

Elizabeth pressed her lips together in a thin red line, dismissed as Jake unlocked the box. Jason's eyes narrowed when his son withdrew his weapon, not even trying to hide it from Elizabeth like Jason used to, and loaded it right in front of them while glancing at his watch.

Penn appeared at the door. "Boss? We should get going."

Jake nodded and placed the box back in his drawer, locking that. "All right. Take these. You all set?"

"We have everything we need," Penn replied crisply, his gray eyes darting to Jason and Elizabeth. "Do you want me to-"

He shook his head. "No. You told Chase to get out of here, right?"

His guard nodded as Jake moved around the desk and fell into step with him as he headed toward the door. "He went home a few minutes ago."

Jake clipped his weapon into place and grabbed his jacket off the coat rack, shrugging into it easily. A junior guard appeared, much like a butler, at the door leading out of the office and handed him his heavy wool coat.

Jake folded it over his arm and turned around to look at his parents. When he spoke, his voice was calm and light, as if they'd just been discussing the weather or a pleasant joke instead of what he did for a living.

"If you haven't had a chance to eat dinner yet, you're welcome to stay. I'm sure Cook has something prepared."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, but Jake had already turned on his heel and was being followed out by his loyal guards, who made sure to close the door to the office behind themselves.


	66. A Strange Thing To Do

**Note – **Long one. Enjoy the Liason Love, kids.

**Mean | 65**

_I apologize; I seem to have arrived_

_Home with items in my bag from your house._

_There's cutlery, a tablecloth, some Hennessey_

_A book on presidents deceased._

_I'll have them Fedex'd to you,_

_It was a strange thing to do;_

_I hope we can still be friends._

-- "Put a Penny in the Slot," Fionn Regan

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

Elizabeth closed her eyes as Jason's hands came to rest on her shoulders. He gave her a gentle squeeze and pulled her a little closer, and she rested against him.

"You okay?"

She let out a short breath and shook her head. "…He's exhausting."

Jason rested his cheek against her hair, still rubbing her shoulders as he thought of something, anything, that might cheer her up. He hated seeing Elizabeth like this, hated seeing her in any kind of pain. And he'd know – he'd been the one to cause her pain for so many years.

"Hey."

"Mm?"

A wicked smile made the corner of his mouth curl up. "…You wanna go exploring?"

She frowned and twisted around in his arms. "What are you talking about?"

"The house." His smile grew. "You wanna stay? Look around?"

"Jason." Elizabeth appeared to struggle for words, but he could tell that in another second or two, he'd have her. "We can't stay here. This is Jake's – this is Jake's house. We have to go. We can't…_stay_."

Jason was grinning now, even though this reckless, spontaneous feeling was somewhat new to him. "We could if we wanted to. Who'd know? If we were careful, we wouldn't even be seen."

She looked unconvinced but intrigued, and he skimmed his hands up and down her sides, trying to get her to relent. "Come on, you're with me. I'm a master when it comes to getting around large houses where I'm not exactly wanted."

That made her laugh, and Jason was glad to see that bright smile.

"We shouldn't," she said, dropping her voice, but she was still grinning and sounded just a little mischievous. "Oh, Jason, we shouldn't. This is his house, he'll be so mad if he finds out."

"We'll let him get mad at me," Jason replied lightly, encouraged when her smile didn't fade. "And you're forgetting – he'll only find out if we get caught. And I have no intention of getting us caught."

He leaned closer and rested his forehead against hers, linking the fingers of both their hands. "What do you say?"

"Well…"

That was all he needed, and Jason grabbed her hand and headed for the door. Elizabeth squealed and let him drag her along, and they ducked out of the offices once he was sure there was no one around.

"Jake has a meeting," he said, trying to keep his tone light so as not to upset her again. She hated hearing about mob business. "So he's going to be gone for a while, and he took his top guards with him. There are one or two junior guards in the house right now and one or two maids, still, so we'll just have to keep an eye out for them."

"Got it," she nodded automatically. "I'll follow your lead. Ooh! I'll be your backup!"

He grinned and tugged her close to his side. "Best backup I've ever had. Okay, where do we start? You know this place better than I do."

"Well…" She bit her lip as she thought. "From what I remember, the foyer's that way, and it opens into the guest parlor. Jake uses that when he has company over that he doesn't want to let into the rest of the house. Then there's the parlor that he uses, but there's not a lot in there. Cigars, his liquor cabinet, a desk, that's about it. There's the dining room down that way, and the kitchen's over there, but there's no point in checking those out. I guess we should start…upstairs?"

"Upstairs," Jason agreed, hurrying down the hallway the way they had come. Elizabeth had to trot to keep up with him, and he never let go of her hand. "This way."

They stopped abruptly when they reached the edge of the foyer, and Jason listened carefully. When he was sure that no one else was around, they made a break for it and crossed the grand foyer and took the stairs up, staying close to the wall. They stopped at the top and Jason checked around for the maids. The coast was clear and they were able to relax, now on the second floor.

"Okay, I have no idea which rooms are which."

"Me, neither," Elizabeth confessed. "The last time I was up here was right after Jake bought the house. None of the furniture was moved in, so I'm as clueless as you are."

"We'll just go one by one," he suggested jauntily, rewarded with her bright smile. "That way, we won't miss anything."

"I can't believe we're doing this," Elizabeth murmured, her hand to her cheek as she watched Jason listen in at the first door. Satisfied that there was no one inside, he opened it and quickly ducked inside after pushing her in. "Jason-"

He was frowning at the room. "Looks like a guest bedroom. Come on, let's find something else."

She was giggling as he dragged her back into the hall, repeating the process on the next door. They were already four steps into it when they realized that it was, in fact, a very large linen closet.

"Why would you ever have a linen closet that big?" Jason asked as they backed out of there.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Well, he's got to keep sheets for the whole house _somewhere_."

"Yeah, but that's almost as big as the kitchen in the penthouse," he replied. "About as big as the room in the penthouse that used to be the nursery…"

He trailed off, thinking of the room in his empty penthouse that he and Sam had planned to use for Lila, and then for their own child, the same room he'd hoped to use for Jake back when he was stupid enough to think the four of them could be a family.

Elizabeth squeezed his hand gently and pulled him down the hall. "Come on, we don't need to look at his sheets. Let's try this one."

This time, she was the one to carefully let them into the room, and Jason followed her lead. "This looks like…I don't know. What is it?"

"I don't know," Jason admitted, looking around the massive room. "Some kind of…storage, do you think?"

"Are you looking at this?" Brows raised, she pointed to a Delftware vase and mounted plate. "This is _really_ expensive Dutch pottery. And that?"

He followed her gaze to a massive glass bull. "That thing?"

"That thing," Elizabeth corrected, moving over toward it, "is a bull made completely out of crystal. Looks French. Yup," she added, leaning down to look at the laminated tag on the base that the animal stood on. "Baccarat, French crystal. These aren't the kinds of things you keep in storage, Jason."

"Who needs a bull made out of crystal?" Jason asked, his tone making it clear that he thought the very idea was ridiculous. "What is all this?"

"I guess it's…a gift room?" Elizabeth looked around at the other fine things in the room. "See, everything has little notes or name plates attached to it. I guess these are all gifts that people gave Jake."

"Carly likes rugs like these." Jason moved over and fingered a bright pattered tapestry mounted on the wall. "She kept trying to buy one while she was with Sonny, but he didn't want to spend all that money on a carpet."

He found the card attached to it and turned it over, reading aloud. "_K'o ssu Chinese silk tapestry, gifted by Victor and Janie Tsao, 2032._"

"I have no idea who those people are."

"I've seen their names in _Forbes_ or something, a while back," he murmured, pushing himself away from the wall. "If I'm right, Jax would probably know them."

"There's no accounting for how Jake does," Elizabeth filled in glumly. "Frankly, I don't want to know. Oh, Jason, watch out."

She pulled him back when he got too close to a sword mounted in a glass case, a gift from Spencer, and Jason squinted at it assessingly.

"Don't worry, it's dull. See?" He tapped at the glass right over the blade. "You can tell. A lot of the antique ones are."

"Nikolas has swords like that," Elizabeth said. He noticed that she made absolutely no move to get any closer to the weapon; if anything, she drew even further away and pulled him toward something else. "At Wyndemere. He's got them mounted on the walls and they're still pretty sharp."

They both thought back to that one night on Spoon Island when one of those swords had been used to pin Ric Lansing to the wall and, shuddering, quickly moved on. At least nothing like that would ever happen with Jake's sword, dull as it was.

"Look at this. Is it…wallpaper?" Elizabeth turned and looked up at him. "Why would anyone give or keep a framed panel of wallpaper as a gift?"

"Does it say anything on the back?" Jason lifted it off the wall before she could protest, and sure enough, they found a card stuck there. "Let's see…It says that this is one of thirty-two panels from _Les Guerres D'Independence_ by Zuber. Given to him by…that's a White House aid. I know I've seen his name before. I heard that Jake was managing a couple government contracts, but I didn't know he was in that deep."

"It says Jake and Morgan got a panel each," she noted. "I don't know, I still don't get why anyone would give wallpaper."

"I'll ask Spinelli to Google it," Jason suggested, proud of himself for actually using that word as a verb. "Maybe he'll find something on it."

He replaced the panel very carefully, even brushing his fingerprints off the frame so the oil from his hands wouldn't damage the wood, and took her hand. "Come on, let's get out of here. I don't want to mess anything up."

"Me, neither," she agreed, delicately stepping past a full set of gold and platinum Honma golf clubs. "Half the things in here cost more than my mortgage before Jake got rid of it."

"He did what?"

"Oh, when he bought the house," Elizabeth explained absently, pausing to stare at an encased rhodium-coated silver fountain pen. "Our house, back when he still lived with me."

Jason frowned slightly when her voice trailed off and Elizabeth remained fixed forlornly on the stupid pen, and he couldn't stand the look on her face. He shook her hand gently and pulled her out of the room. "Come on, let's go look somewhere else."

The next room turned out to be a massive bathroom, and Jason flopped down in an armchair upholstered in Chinese silk as Elizabeth looked around. Like any mother, she checked to see how clean it was (spotless), she checked to see if he was running low on supplies (the oil in the air freshener fan was about half done) and she checked his medicine cabinet. There, she found some cough medicine that was under investigation by the FDA and promptly poured it down the drain before throwing away the bottle as Jason laughed at her.

"They say it could contain carcinogens, Jason," she told him sternly as he ushered her out of the bathroom that was easily as big of two of the ones in the penthouse. "I don't want him drinking that until the FDA releases its report."

"Okay, okay." He let her poke him and prod him down the hall. "What's in here, do you think? Oh…another linen closet. How many does he need?"

Elizabeth laughed and shut the door, but not before peeking in at the exquisite Irish linens. "Well, you never know, a few extra sheets might not cover it. Might be smarter to have a few hundred extra sheets."

She was still laughing at that when Jason's smirk disappeared, only to be replaced by a look of brief panic.

"What-"

"Someone's coming," he said urgently, slipping an arm around her waist. "I hear Jake's voice. Either he forgot something or he came home early."

"What?" Her eyes widened in panic. "Is he coming this way?"

"Yeah. Stay close." Jason used his hold on her waist to pull her into a nook in the hallway so that they were both pressed up against the wall, in the tight corner. "Just stay still and quiet."

Elizabeth did as she was told and a few seconds passed before her eyes narrowed. "I don't hear anything."

Jason remained quiet.

Her jaw dropped and she smacked his chest. "Jason! You didn't hear his voice at all! There's no one else here!"

He laughed and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before she shoved his chest, pushing him out of the corner. "Oh, you're the worst, Jason Morgan."

Jason was still laughing and he let her push him down the hall in short bursts because he was so heavy. "I had you for a minute there."

"The worst," was her only reply, though he could hear the amusement in her voice. "Move it."

"Where are you pushing me?"

"There."

"I already checked there, that's just an empty bedroom."

"Okay, then, there."

He turned the knob on the door that she pushed him to and let himself in. "This is another guest bedroom. How many bedrooms are there in this house? We only have three at the penthouse, and I always thought that was more than anyone could need."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Maybe he has a lot of company over. You know…associates or something."

"Sonny and I never let our associates room with us. Except Spinelli, but he doesn't count."

"Well, you guys also didn't have country manors," she pointed out, moving past him into the large room. "Hey…"

Jason was already turning back toward the hall. "What?"

"This isn't just another guest bedroom."

"Yeah? Why not?"

Elizabeth gestured to the dresser, the night table, and a doorway leading into an adjoining room. "Look, it has a bathroom attached to it, just like any master bedroom. Only I know this isn't Jake's bedroom. And there are things on the dresser and on the night table."

"Is he living with someone?" Jason asked curiously, moving back into the room. "Johnny's daughter, maybe?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I'm positive they're not living together. Besides, she spends most of her time in Crimson Point these days. Nadine's there a lot more now, too, since she dropped down to part-time. Amalia runs some of Johnny's operations there, so she's mainly located there. And besides, Jake and Amalia aren't serious like that."

"I thought they were together."

"At one point, I'm pretty sure they were," she admitted. "But ever since he was a kid, and I thought they were dating, he'd tell me it wasn't serious and that they were just friends. But I'm pretty sure they dated at some point. I don't know, he doesn't tell me anything anymore."

"Well, let's find out, then," Jason shrugged. He was already roaming around his son's house; no sense in doing a half-assed job about it. He wasn't the nosy type – ever – but then again, Jake was his son and he knew very little about him. He'd seize this chance tonight even if it cost him later. "Anything here look like it belongs to Amalia?"

"Well…" Elizabeth trailed her fingers over the dresser, eyeing a pretty bracelet that sat there. "I don't know, that's just a bracelet. No engraving or anything – I think most of Amalia's things are engraved. That's what Nadine said once. I don't know how it came up."

"What about these?" Jason held up ticket stubs. "Opera. Do Jake and Amalia go to the opera a lot?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, taking them from him. "I don't even know if he likes that sort of thing. Maybe, because he plays piano. Right? Right?"

Jason shrugged. "Don't look at me."

Sadly, she set the tickets down. Jason watched her and then turned toward the bed. "Well, hey, maybe there's something over there."

Elizabeth was already inching toward the bathroom. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Um…I found some eye drops," he shrugged, looking at whatever lay out on the stand. "One of those hairband things girls wear."

"Those don't mean anything," Elizabeth called from the bathroom. "It could be anybody. Or nobody – just any random girl Jake brought home."

"He doesn't seem the type to bring girls home," Jason muttered, thinking back to when he was Jake's age. He much preferred his liaisons take place anywhere but his penthouse, and he presumed Jake thought similarly, just based on how private he was. Or maybe he was only that secretive around the two of them.

"There's a pair of shoes under the bed. And a car magazine." He flipped through it, looking at the high-priced automobiles, before placing it back where he found it. "And…oh."

She caught his strange tone and poked her head out of the bathroom. "What? What did you find?"

He looked up at her and moved away from the bed. "Nothing."

But Elizabeth knew better than to buy that and moved closer to the bed. "Jason, what – Oh. Well."

A red lace thong was tucked between the sheets and the edge of the bed, and they both stared down at it.

"Oh."

Jason looked at her sideways. "Yeah."

Elizabeth's lips tightened into a red line. "Well, there's definitely someone else that uses this room, then."

"Looks like it." He scratched the back of his head. "You think he's getting serious with someone? Not necessarily Amalia, but someone? I mean, there's a bracelet, there are tickets, there's…underwear…"

"I don't think so," she said firmly. "You know why? Because of the bathroom."

"What? What'd you find there?"

"I found spare toothbrushes in their packaging, a small bottle of perfume, an unused thing of floss, and an extra tube of toothpaste," she rattled off. "But no razors or shaving cream or birth control pills or tampons or anything."

Jason was watching her strangely. "And that means something because…?"

"Jason," she sighed with exasperation. "You know what it's like to live with a woman. Sam, Courtney, anyone else. Like, when Lucky and I were living together without really living together, I'd leave things at his place all the time. Important things. Emergency things. Like, I didn't want to be stuck there and not have a tampon if I really needed it, so I put a couple in his bathroom drawer. I dumped my razor and a small can of shaving gel, too. And when we got more serious, I moved more of my stuff in like my birth control pills, hairbrush, curling iron, that sort of thing. And there's nothing like that in that bathroom."

Of course, what the two of them didn't know was that Amalia and Jake did indeed share that guest bedroom (since she still refused to sleep in his bedroom under the painting formerly known as the Wind) but that she kept personal items to a minimum. Her pills stayed in a tiny canister in her purse so she always had them, even if she had to stay late in Crimson Pointe or take a surprise trip to Milan to see Claudia, or if any other emergency came up. She didn't do anything fancy to her hair when she slept over at Jake's, and having been a fan of laser hair removal for the past several years, Amalia literally would have been unable to sprout a single hair on her leg even if held at gunpoint and ordered for some inexplicable reason to do so.

But, of course, Jason and Elizabeth knew nothing about any of that.

"So…one night stand room?"

"One night stand room," she laughed. "Plus a bracelet that someone probably forgot. Oh, God, this feels weird, let's just go."

He let her pull him out of the room, careful to shut it behind them. He really didn't need to know that much about his son's sexual conquests.

"No more checking out guest bedrooms."

"Agreed," Elizabeth responded automatically. "Hey, you said Jake had the Wind, right? That he kept it after he started cleaning up our old safe house?"

Jason nodded.

"Where do you think he has it?" She took his hand when he shrugged and pulled him down the hall. "Let's find it. Maybe it's in – gosh, _another_ linen closet? You're right, no one needs this many."

He smirked and followed her as they finished checking the rest of the rooms. "What do you think this is?"

"Looks like a sitting room. Maybe he kept one upstairs just because there are so many offices and bedrooms up here. Is this – Oh. This is it."

They'd stumbled into the master bedroom, and the first thing Elizabeth saw was her old painting hanging above his bed, just like it used to hang above theirs at the safe house.

"Oh, Jason, there it is."

He gazed up at the painting that had been with him – in one way or another – for decades. "Yeah, there it is. He actually kept it and put it up."

She looked at him strangely. "Well, you said he wanted to keep it."

"Yeah, but I thought he was only saying that because he knew it meant something to us," Jason admitted. "I thought he'd take it but put in the basement or in storage or something. I didn't think he'd actually put it up. And in his room…"

"It looks nice, don't you think?" Elizabeth beamed, looking around the room for the first time. "This whole place does. I think he was saying that Cecily took care of the decorating. Ha, she's better at it than Carly is, that's for sure."

Jason let that remark slide, mostly because he agreed. Jake's bedroom was the most massive room they'd come across so far, with its own lounge area, massive windows with seats and heavy drapes, what looked to be an extremely spacious bathroom, a separate dressing room complete with dressing screen, a walk-in closet that looked like it was as big as half the bedroom, easily, and a large open space where his bed and matching night tables sat. It was a richly appointed, entirely masculine bedchamber done up in shades of dark burgundy, so dark it was almost a deep brown, and gold, and he imagined that it suited his son perfectly.

"I didn't know people still kept bedrooms like this."

"It's something out of a picture book, isn't it?" Elizabeth agreed. "Well, maybe a history book. About Victorian times."

Jason laughed at that. "Yeah. Who has dressing rooms, anymore?"

"Johnny and Nadine do," she shrugged. "I've been over at Crimson Manor a couple times. If you go into their bedroom, they have this hall and it has two separate rooms with screens. His and Hers dressing rooms."

"Kind of unnecessary, if you ask me."

"No, I kind of agree." She moved closer to the wind, staring up at it. "I mean, I always closed the door and changed in my bedroom. And I had a normal-sized – Oh! Jason! Let's look in his closet!"

She had grabbed his hand and was yanking him toward the massive closet before Jason could even blink, and he figured it was a girl thing.

"It's not like he has anything that's going to fit you."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, laughing at his joke, and pulled him along. "Oh, come on, I just want to see how his closet's grown. Honestly, if I had a closet this nice…I'd live in it."

Jason poked his head in after her and looked around. Sure enough, it was a very spacious walk in with separate compartments and shelves throughout. Elizabeth was standing by Jake's suits, looking through them carefully, and he saw that he easily had at least two dozen designer ones alone.

"I like this one," she murmured, fingering the fabric. "Good stitching. And look at the clean lines…"

Her eyes lit up and Jason knew that he was very seriously going to dislike what came out of her mouth next.

And sure enough…

"Jason, try it on!"

He backed away from her as one would back away from a crazy person. "No way."

"Jason…"

"Elizabeth, no." Really, a man had to put his foot down sometime. "I'm not dressing up in my son's clothes."

Her lower lip stuck out in that pout she _knew_ he was defenseless again, the damn woman. "But you'd look so nice. And look, they're probably your size, too. Please, Jason?"

"No."

"Please, Jason?"

"No."

"_Please_, Jason?"

"…Fine." He held up a finger when she giddily bounced up and down. "But only one."

"Only one," she promised, approaching with the jacket, and he knew instantly that she had no intention of following her word.

Jason growled under his breath and turned, slipping his arms into the jacket as she held it out. Elizabeth helped him pull it into place and smoothed her hands over his shoulders to straighten it out. She had to stand on her toes to do so, and Jason tugged on the sleeves and adjusted the lapels before turning.

"There."

"Oh, you look so nice," she beamed, holding her hands together by her chin. "Does it fit okay?"

"Yeah."

"Hm." She fingered the fabric, pinching it between her fingers, and said what Jason hadn't been too keen on drawing attention to. "It's a little big at the shoulders. Just an inch. That's right, Jake's just a little taller than you."

Well, Jesus, he didn't need her to announce it like that.

"It's a little snug around here, though, isn't it?" She tugged the edges closed over his broad chest and his stomach, for some reason not done humiliating him. "Yeah, he must be just a little thinner. No one feeds that boy right. He used to eat just fine when he was with me, I'll tell you that much. He works too hard is what it is. Works too hard and doesn't eat enough. I should make him some lasagna. He loves lasagna, you know."

He smiled down at her as she smoothed her hands over his chest. It was so like Elizabeth to still want to pamper her boys even after they'd both grown up and moved out. Lord knew that she still did it to Cameron at the hospital whenever she got a chance, but he was a department head and didn't particularly care when his mother embarrassed him in front of people, mainly because his credentials afforded him a higher place on the totem pole than most of his colleagues that would make fun of him.

"Oh, Jason, try on his shoes."

"What?" he groaned. "Elizabeth, you said it would only be one."

"One jacket," she agreed, approaching with a pair of shoes. "These are dress shoes. Come on, please?"

Still grumbling, he kicked off his boots and stepped into the shoes she offered. He'd started this snooping expedition as a way to cheer her up, and if she wanted him to try on Jake's shoes, he'd try on the damn shoes.

"How do they fit?"

He frowned and took a few steps in them. "Good, actually. They're my size. And they don't look bad, either."

"I knew you'd like them," she smiled. "See, they're dress shoes, but they still kind of look like your boots, just a little. And they're leather. Calfskin, I think. Jake's the kind of person that would have calfskin shoes, right?"

"Sure," he laughed, walking around her once more. "Why not?"

"Look at all these ties." Elizabeth was flipping through the rack, fingering the exquisite silk. "He hates ties, but he still has so many of them. Oh, Jason, look, these ones match your eyes."

"His, too," Jason pointed out as she approached with the scrap of silk. "Ours are the same color."

Elizabeth smiled to herself as she looped the tie around his neck and quickly fashioned it into a knot even though he was just wearing a t-shirt underneath. She'd seen Nadine fix Johnny's ties a million times and was always struck by what a comfortable, domestic ritual it was. Johnny knew how to wear a tie, of course, but he always let Nadine adjust the knot and get it just right before they left the house. The last time she'd fixed Jason's tie was…the first and only time, actually. It was right before Alan's funeral, and she'd dropped by his penthouse.

The memory was so distant that it almost made her frown, but she pushed the thought away. Jason was in one of his moods, one of his cute, spontaneous, adventurous moods and he was so rarely like this, and she knew he was doing it all for her benefit, so she wouldn't disappoint him by being gloomy.

He was inspecting his image in the mirror as she looked around the massive closet again. "Whoa. Look at this – he has a whole separate drawer for cuff links. Who has a separate drawer for cuff links?"

Jason shrugged. "I don't even know what those are."

"You know," she assured him. "I've seen you wearing them once or twice. Carly probably made you."

"Probably."

"Ooh!" She let out an excited squeal and turned around, holding up a black hat that looked like the ones in those old detective movies. "Jason. You _have_ to try on this hat."

He pulled a face. "No."

"Jason."

"Elizabeth…"

She approached, shaking her head, and he knew this was one of those things she wouldn't budge on. _"Jason."_

He sighed heavily and let her place it on his head. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and reached up again, this time tilting it rakishly to the side and drew away satisfied.

Jason blinked and looked down at her. "Well?"

She had been trying to hide a smile but at that innocent question, burst out laughing. "Oh, Jason, you look ridiculous."

He grinned at that, inwardly so pleased to hear her laugh again, and took the hat off. "Come on, let's put this stuff back just like we found it."

"You know, after I had Cameron," she started, placing the hat back on the rack, "I had baby fever really badly for a while. And I wanted a little girl, since I already had a boy, because I just thought it would be so fun to walk into my room and find her in my closet, getting dressed up in all my clothes."

She slid him a sidelong glance and smirked, clipping the tie back into place as he replaced the jacket on its wooden hanger. "It's almost as fun dressing you up in his clothes."

"Glad you had fun, because it's never happening again," he teased, physically hauling her out of his closet before she could find something else of his to put on him. "It looks the same, right?"

Elizabeth checked the room one last time and nodded, flipping off the light. "Like we were never there."

They walked back out into the main room, passing by the bed, and both of them stared up at the painting. Feeling another mischievous idea coming on, Jason looked down at her. "…You want to take it?"

Elizabeth gaped at him before laughing, but shook her head. "No, no. We shouldn't do that. If he likes it, he can have it. But…you know what?"

He watched her cross over to the small escritoire in the corner and pull a fine-point marker from the canister. "What? What are you doing?"

"You should sign it," she grinned, looking impossibly impish. "Like how I signed it in the corner, right over there, when I painted it? Jason, you should _totally_ sign it. Let's see if he ever notices."

"Hey, I thought we'd go looking around," he protested as she shoved the marker in his hand. "I draw the line at vandalism."

"It's not vandalism," she disagreed, pushing him over toward the painting. "You're just signing it. Go ahead. Just your name. Can you reach it?"

He had no idea why he was going along with this insanity, but…aw, hell, why not? It wasn't like Jake could do anything to him. And he probably wouldn't notice, anyway. He uncapped the marker and reached up, having to stand on his toes to reach out over the bed.

Elizabeth watched as he scrawled his name in the side, right opposite hers, and took the marker from him when he handed it to her. "There."

"There, what?"

"It looks complete now, don't you think?" she asked, looking up at him slyly to see if he caught her gist. "Come on, we should go."

"You don't want to look around here anymore?"

"I learned my lesson from the other bedroom, thanks," Elizabeth huffed, pulling him out into the hall. "No, thank you."

"Looks like there's only that room left," Jason said, pointing to the massive double doors that stood at the end of the hallway. "We checked everything else."

She tested the doors and found them heavy. "I wonder what's in here…"

"Watch, he's got a bunch of lions in there. What?" he added, shrugging when she slid him a bemused look. "He's got every other damn thing in the world here. Three closets for sheets…"

"Oh, you're just being…oh, wow." The doors had opened out into the second floor of a truly palatial library, and they were standing on a balcony overlooking an impressive collection of books. "Oh, Jason, look."

"Edward would love it here," he murmured, looking around. "He's always talking about how his library at the house isn't big enough."

"But that library's huge," she balked. "Emily and I used to get lost in there."

He shook his head, still amazed at the sheer size of the room and the number of books. "Come on, let's go downstairs."

The ledge they stood upon stretched all along the perimeter of the room, allowing access to the books on the second floor, and there were ladders next to every shelf. Some of the shelves held books but some held pieces of artwork and other impressive things.

"Does he even read any of this stuff, you think?"

"He had a lot of books when he was in school," Elizabeth replied with a shrug. "He used to keep them in airtight containers in the basement – the kind you get at the dollar store – because he didn't want them to get ruined. Every single time he came home from school during college, he had more books than anything else. I used to yell at him for taking up so much space in the house…"

"Are these textbooks?"

"_Managers and the Legal Environment: Strategies for the 21__st__ Century, _by Constance Bagley," she read. "Yeah, I remember hearing her name. She was one of his professors at Yale. You know, it doesn't surprise me that he hung on to all his old books."

"I think only Nikolas's library is bigger than this one," Jason mused as they found the winding staircase down to the first floor. "The one on Spoon Island."

"Yeah, it has secret doors and tunnels," Elizabeth told him as he helped her down. "Back when me, Lucky, and Gia lived there, we'd go exploring all the time and get lost in the tunnels until Mrs. Lansbury came looking for us."

She saw something on the shelf that made her eyes light up. "Oh, Jason, look! Photo albums!"

The thickest one contained mostly pictures of Jake, Cameron, and Elizabeth back when the two were just boys, and the thinner ones contained pictures of the rest of the group: Michael and Morgan, Mal and Anna, Cecily, Spencer, and Amalia.

"What are these?"

A series of smaller albums, and Jason pulled out the whole stack. Elizabeth looked over his shoulder as he flipped the first one open.

"Where is he? I don't recognize any of those buildings."

"I do," Jason murmured, flipping faster through the whole album. "Yeah, I know where he is. This one's from Paris."

He handed it to her and opened the next album as she looked through the first. "This one…maybe London. Yeah, London. These ones are in Edinburgh. These few at the end look like they were taken in someplace south of London. Look at that garden right behind him, behind the house he's standing in front of. Kent, I'd guess. They've got gardens there."

"And this one?" She took the next album and flipped it open. "Where is he in this one?"

"Vegas," Jason responded automatically. He'd been there often enough to know it at a mere glance. "There's Wynn, there's the strip, there's the MGM Grand, all those places. Looks like he's been there a lot – see, he looks older in the ones at the end."

"Mm." Elizabeth kept her eyes trained on the albums he held. "And this one?"

"Looks like…Martinique." He studied the pictures and nodded. "Yeah. Sonny took Carly there once or twice. They have pictures at the resort. Looks like he's on a yacht…wait, is that his yacht?"

She shrugged helplessly, feeling more and more out of touch with each photo of her son in exotic locales with strange people. "I think I heard him mention it to Cam once, that he had a yacht. Something about racing it…"

"Antigua race week," Jason responded automatically. "Yeah, I've heard of it. A big race…even bigger party."

"Looks like it," she said dryly, noting the picture of Jake, dressed in white linen pants and blue button-down, standing on his boat and holding a cigar while laughing at something that was happening off camera. "Oh, there's Spencer. I wonder if it's his yacht they're all on."

Jason shrugged and moved on to the next album as Elizabeth placed the others on the shelf. "This one…"

"He's skiing," she said, pointing out the obvious. "Colorado?"

"Austria or Germany." He pointed to one of the pictures. "See the buildings? The homes? Definitely not America."

"Oh."

He handed it to her and opened the next one. "This is…someplace tropical. I have no idea. Could be anywhere. What do you think?"

"Look at how blue that water is," Elizabeth murmured. "I've never seen anything that blue."

"This looks like Spain." He'd already moved on to the next album. "See the buildings off the balcony or terrace or whatever that thing is? And the mountains over there…Oh, look at the women in this picture. Yeah, that's Spain. Look, I think he's at a bull fight here."

"There's Morgan." Elizabeth had found a picture of Jake and Morgan, her son's arm slung across his best friend's shoulder, each with a matching wine glass in hand. "They must have gone there together. For…business?"

Jason nodded jerkily. "Yeah, after Morgan made him partner, there was a week where they left to visit an old associate of ours in Madrid. This must have been from that."

She frowned when he started putting the last album back. "Wait, where is he in that one? You didn't even check?"

Jason hesitated and finally handed it over to her in defeat. "He's…Italy. He's in Italy."

Her eyes widened and she eagerly flipped it open. "Really? You already looked?"

He drew back uneasily as she started perusing the pictures. "Yeah. Um, it looks like he took a couple pictures in Rome, some in Venice and Milan, and a lot somewhere in Tuscany. Some rural town."

"There's Amalia." Her voice was small and distant, and he looked over at her in time to see the corner of her mouth curve downward. "And Claudia. They must be back in Johnny's hometown. The one that the Zacchara family came from. Why would they take Jake there? They never once mentioned it."

"Maybe he went without Johnny and Nadine," Jason suggested.

She turned the album around and even from a few paces away, standing where he was by Jake's monstrous desk, he could see Johnny astride a black horse, riding along with Jake, and a picture of Johnny, Nadine, Jake, and Amalia having tea in the courtyard.

"Oh."

Elizabeth glanced away sourly. "Yeah. Oh, this is a nice picture. It looks like he's at that church you told me about, the one in Rome, the famous one that everyone goes to."

Jason murmured something in reply and idly skirted the dress. He didn't want to look at that photo album with her. Italy was the one place he always thought he'd take her. He'd imagined himself there with her, even gotten them tickets once. And now their lives had passed them by, and here they were thirty years later and they'd never gone. They'd never gone anywhere. Meanwhile, their son had traveled all over the world with the people he loved, and he'd even made it to Italy on their own.

She was still looking through the album, smiling now. "You know, these are kind of like his travel books."

He turned around. "What?"

"Like his travel books," Elizabeth repeated. "You know how all your bookshelves are full of travel books? Or…used to be full of travel books, at any rate?"

"They still are," he assured her, assured himself.

"Well, Jake doesn't keep those, but he keeps these, and they're like his travel books." She put the albums back on the shelf as he traced the edge of the desk, finding a secret call button that would probably alert his men or maybe even the police or something. "What are you doing over there? What are you looking for?"

Jason shrugged. "Hidden things. Like this call button. See?"

"Hm." She looked where his finger was and then looked around. "What else do you think he's got hidden around here?"

"No idea," he shrugged, "but if I had to guess, I'd say there's a safe behind one of these shelves. A library's a good spot for a secret safe, right?"

"I wouldn't know," she replied. "Come on, let's go before we're heard. And turn off that lamp."

He did as he was told and they made their way across the library, stepping out into the hall only when they saw a maid walk safely past and put some distance between them.

"Where to now?"

"This way," she said automatically. "He's got a conservatory over there but you don't want to see that, do you?"

Jason made a face. "I don't even know what a conservatory is."

"It's got plants, I think. Maybe he has a telescope in there, I don't know."

"Sounds…interesting."

She laughed and pulled him along. "Okay, so we skip the conservatory. Well, he's got the dining room over there, but we don't care about that. There's a drawing room over there…"

"He draws?"

Elizabeth let out a little laugh and looped her arm through his. "No, no, drawing rooms are where he entertains guests. The formal living room is over there, but it's boring. Everything is so…well, you know. Furniture so nice that you don't even want to sit on it. Those kinds of rooms. Even Jake admitted that he never goes in there."

Jason let out a little snort at that.

"Um…he's got a music room," she suggested, stopping at one of the doors. She pushed it open and he saw a beautiful grand piano by the windows. "He plays that. Kept it up since he was little, never stopped."

"He play any of those?" Jason asked, gesturing to the guitar and the drums and the cello that sat mounted around the room.

"He can play the guitar. The drums, I don't think so, but he might just keep those around for when Mal comes over to visit or something. And the saxophone for Spencer. I hear they like to get together and play sometimes."

"Like they used to at the Nurse's Ball every year."

She smiled up at him, pleased that he remembered. "Yeah, like that. And these, these are probably for…Amalia. She plays."

Jason tilted his head and looked up at the matching Stradivarius violins. "Nice."

"Let's go someplace else," Elizabeth suggested, knowing he had little interest in music. "He has a private parlor over here. Wanna check it out?"

"Sure."

The first thing that caught his eye when they walked in was a large wooden liquor cabinet, and Jason headed over to inspect it out of curiosity.

"Jason…"

"What? I just want to see what he drinks. It's not like I'm going to take any." He could feel her smirking at him as he squinted at the labels. "Oh, Jesus…"

"What?"

He had to blink to make sure he wasn't seeing things. "He's got Diaka Vodka."

"What's that?"

"Sonny got it once as a birthday present," he explained. "It's this vodka that's made with a filtration process that uses about a hundred one-carat diamonds. It's the smoothest, clearest vodka in the world."

That impressed Elizabeth, who was known to enjoy vodka blended with any number of fruit juices. "Really? That good?"

"Better," he affirmed. "I don't usually drink it because I don't like it that much, but I had to try it when Sonny got it."

"Wow." She had moved on to the sparkly bottle sitting right next to it. "What about that?"

"Henri IV Dudognon Heritage," he read from the label. "Cognac."

"Looks expensive."

"Not all that expensive," he shrugged. "The _really_ expensive ones are sold in gold and platinum bottles, go for around $2 million. I've got a bottle of this one at home. He's got a good collection here, though. Good vodka, good whiskey, good chardonnay…_great_ scotch. Hey, do you know what kind of beer he drinks?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Haven't you seen him drinking at Jake's? You should know what he drinks."

"We all drink whatever Coleman stocks at Jake's," he admitted. "It's not really the best beer. There are much better beers out there. Jake only drinks it because that's what served. I was just wondering what he _really_ drinks."

"Sorry, I don't know. I do know that for a while, he liked something called Bell's. It's from Canada or Michigan or something. But he tries different ones. He doesn't stick to the same one like you do." She smirked a little, thinking back. "I remember, though, that he likes his beer dark and thick, like motor oil. Disgusting."

Jason took one last look at the liquor cabinet and then took her hand. "Come on, let's find some other room."

"He has a game room," Elizabeth piped up, following happily after him. "Says he wanted a pool table and stuff at home. Just like you."

She found the room easily and Jason had been admiring the billiards table for a few minutes before his gaze fell on the cues mounted to the wall and his jaw actually dropped.

"…Oh, _shit."_

Elizabeth, who'd been looking at a deck of stainless steel playing cards, walked on over with them. "What?"

"That." Still gaping, Jason moved forward and took an impressive cue down from the wall. "The Intimidator."

She wasn't following. "What, now?"

"The Intimidator," he repeated, showing her the cue that easily looked like a medieval weapon used to tear out an enemy's entrails. "It's this really great pool cue that just came out. Spinelli special-ordered mine just yesterday. I can't believe he already has one."

He lowered it to the felt and perfected his stance, moving it back and forth over the felt as Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Wow…"

"You boys and your toys," she muttered, but he could tell she was amused. "That's a ridiculous name for a pool cue. Seriously. You have to give me that."

"It's not," he scoffed. "It's a good name – are you even looking at this thing?"

Seeing that he wasn't going to win this one, Jason straightened and returned the cue to its spot. "What do you have there?"

"Cards," she replied simply, holding them up. "They're made of steel. Must be awful to shuffle these."

He pointed to an appliance on the table. "There's an automatic shuffler for those things."

"Oh." She paused and then let out a laugh. "Obviously. Otherwise, that'd be dumb. Hold on, let me put these back. Hey, did you notice that this whole room smells like smoke? But, like, dirtier smoke."

"Cigars," he said automatically. "The penthouse would smell like them, too, but I try to smoke out on the balcony if I have one. Couldn't smoke them at all when Spinelli was living with me – he was allergic to it. The smell of cigars or tobacco would make him sneeze a lot. No, Jake's got cigars around here somewhere…"

"Jason!" Mouth open, she laughed at him as he prowled the room, clearly in search. "I don't believe you…Ooh. Look at how cute this yo-yo is. It's just like the one Jake gave Cameron."

"They've got to be here somewhere…" Jason found the bare, minimalist desk that doubled as a table for Jake's iPod base and speakers and started opening the drawers. "I want to see how good his are."

"I used to be really good at these when I was a kid," Elizabeth was saying, pulling off an impressive walk-the-dog trick. "What do you think this one is made out of? It's all shiny. Maybe aluminum. You think?"

"Probably," he murmured, pulling open the largest drawer. "Here they are. Whoa, he's got a whole pack of La Escepcion. These were discontinued before he was even born. I think you have to smuggle them into the country, you can't even buy them legally here. And he's got the nice Havana ones. Let's see…Oh."

"What is it?"

He had set the cigars on the table and was looking in the drawer when he found it accidentally. The drawer had a false bottom, which he accidentally triggered, and Jason looked down when he heard a clack and found himself staring at a small, clear plastic pouch containing a white, powdery substance. Next to the baggie sat a razor with residue on the blade.

Jason was so fixated on what he found that he didn't realize that Elizabeth was looking over his shoulder. She saw the cocaine and pulled back, her gaze jumping to his profile. But Jason didn't notice and quickly considered his options, finally picking the one he thought was best.

In a second, he'd flipped the false bottom into place and straightened, putting the cigar packages back. "Nothing. Just more cigars."

Elizabeth's mouth tightened at the corners as he replaced the La Escepcions and then the Havana brands. She looked away, letting the yo-yo fall slack at her side before she slowly began wrapping it up.

Jason put in the last pack of the cigars and, on impulse, grabbed one of the better ones. He stuck it in his pocket, spurred on by this new sense of adventure and recklessness and just a bit of anger, and carefully closed the drawer.

Cocaine.

Jake did cocaine. He had it hidden in a bag in his house. He and Sonny had been trafficking the substance for decades, sure, but they'd never used any or let it into their homes. Hell, they even used to search Spinelli's room for pot and get rid of it.

His mind was racing and he wondered just how much Jake used, and how often. He had to admit, it didn't look like he was in terrible shape: it was one small bag. As far as stashes went, it was small. He'd seen much, much larger private stashes belonging to men who used.

Elizabeth did mention that Jake had lost a little weight, but maybe that was because of diet and not the crack. Who knew how long Jake had been using this thing? Maybe it was recent. And besides, he was always working and hardly ever slept, always looked as if he had endless energy. There was no way any man could do that on his own, with absolutely no chemical help.

He was still considering these things when the sound of Elizabeth clearing her throat cut through the oppressive silence.

"We…we should probably go."

She watched him stiffen a little and nod, and she knew. She knew that Jason had no intention of telling her about the drugs he'd found in the drawer. He'd keep it to himself, this secret vice of their son's, because he thought it was better to hide it from her.

"Yeah, yeah. We should." He was heading to the door and paused to look out for any maids or guards.

Elizabeth let him slip out into the hall before calling out quietly, "Be there in a second. I just have to put this away."

In a flash, she was at the drawer she'd seen Jason going through. She took out the cigars and stacked them in front of her, feeling around frantically for the trigger for the false bottom. She had absolutely no experience with these things, but she'd once managed to actually unlock the supply closet at the hospital with her ID card and had once jimmied open the lock on one of her old trunks when she'd lost the key, so maybe she could find it if she just looked carefully enough-

It clicked and slid away, and her fingers were grasping the cocaine baggie before she even realized it. Elizabeth shoved it into her pocket, knowing that she would get rid of it even though she didn't know how, and shoved everything back in place. Taking a deep breath, she hurried toward the door.

"What took you so long?"

She shrugged, deciding not to answer, and let him lead her toward the foyer.

"We should probably leave now," Jason stated firmly. "I mean, leave the house. It's getting late."

He'd lost his taste for a little reckless snooping after the discovery he made in the drawer. Elizabeth watched him out of the corner of her eye and nodded. "Yeah. It is. Oh!"

Jason looked down at her when she grabbed his arm. "What?"

"I left my purse upstairs."

"Your purse?" He made a face as she doubled back toward the library, figuring it was safer to go up that way. "When did you even put it down?"

"When I was in the bathroom, pouring that cough syrup down the drain," she explained. "Come on, it'll just take a minute."

They entered the library again and took the stairs up to the second floor, stepping out into the hall. Elizabeth checked a few rooms before she found the bathroom, and emerged with her purse. "Okay, now we can go."

Jason nodded and they walked down the hall, but this time, something else made Elizabeth stop. When he followed her gaze, he found himself once again staring into his son's bedroom. This time, though, it wasn't the sight above the bed that caught his attention, but the sight on the bed.

Jake must have returned sometime during their snooping, and their son was sprawled out, face-down, on his comforter. He was still wearing his suit and his legs were halfway off the bed, but he was sound asleep.

Elizabeth made a sound low in her throat and crept into his room before Jason could stop her. He watched from the hall as she approached their son and, grasping his shoulder, gently tried to rouse him.

"Jake? Jake, honey, wake up." He grunted a little and she shook harder. "Jake, wake up, at least take off your jacket and shoes, honey, come on."

She was trying to turn him over and Jake moaned something and turned onto his back, and there was no way that Elizabeth could wake him up or get him to turn, much less pull his suit jacket off. She tried for a few more minutes before finally admitting defeat.

Jason watched her gaze sadly down at their boy before she knelt and removed his shoes, setting them at the foot of his bed. Jake muttered something and scooted up a little, pulling his feet onto the bed, and sprawled out once more. Elizabeth brushed the hair out of his face and watched him sleep, then slowly pulled away.

Her eyes were dull and downcast as she approached, and Jason tried to remember the sound of her laughing just an hour ago.

"We can go now."

He sighed heavily, knowing that something had happened causing her mood to change this way, and his shoulders slumped just before he felt her arm slowly slipping around his waist.

"…And thanks for trying to cheer me up."


	67. The Things We Do

**Mean | 66**

_Time passes_

_And it tells us_

_What we're left with:_

_We become the things we do._

-- "Blinded (When I See You)," Third Eye Blind

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

He'd actually fallen asleep last night and slept for six hours, which was amazing in and of itself. The only time he slept that well was after he tried to hit his most-times-in-one-night record with Amalia.

Jake had gotten up early, unable to sleep any more, and decided to go for a swim. He'd had an indoor heated pool put in and it was one of his favorite things about the house. So he'd changed into his trunks and done a few laps in the water, then hopped out dripping wet and feeling incredibly refreshed.

He ditched the trunks and pulled on his sweatpants without bothering to fully towel off, then headed back into the main house. His cook knew about his crazy hours, bless her, and did her best to accommodate that. The smell of fresh coffee hit him as soon as he entered the hall leading to the kitchen, and he knew she'd have a fresh bowl of fruit already prepared for him.

He liked to have coffee and fruit first thing in the morning, do some work, and then have a larger breakfast when the rest of the world was actually awake. Usually, Amalia joined him for the first meal of the day, and he felt bad if she took it on herself to get out of bed at five in the morning just because he happened to be up.

His pre-breakfast meal was always a quick affair. Usually, he took it in the kitchen with the staff. Cook, an older woman with thick gray streaks in her hair named Elfrida who he just called Cook, would still have some time before she started the actual breakfast, would have a cup of coffee with him, and Jake had the chance to chat with his staff and see how they were all doing. Cook always made about 20 cups' worth of coffee in the giant carafe so that the entire household could partake.

He'd eaten, had his coffee, and gone through the morning paper before he finally pushed himself away, intending to head to his office and get some work done. Yesterday had been a crazy day, what with the disastrous Five Families meeting and the late meeting after that, and he just needed to settle back into his regular rhythm.

It took him a little while to do a walk-through of the house, checking out every room his parents had been in. He was only ten minutes away from the house when he'd gotten a call from his surveillance guy, telling him that his parents were running around the house and looking in all the rooms, and asking him what he wanted them to do.

Jake had said to let them explore to their heart's content, but let him know if they took something or seemed to like something. His guy had called him saying that Jason took a liking to the Intimidator cue and the cigars, and that Elizabeth appeared to have taken something from a drawer in the game room.

He was looking in the drawer now, thinking that nothing was amiss, and then it occurred to him that maybe the drawer had a false bottom. Sure enough, the bottom slid away and he found himself looking at just a lonely razor blade, and suddenly he realized what his parents had found in there. It was probably just an eight-ball that he'd left in there and forgotten about.

His parents had found it, obviously, and his mother had taken it, probably to save her baby from the evils of big, bad drugs. Whatever. It was fine. He was an infrequent, recreational user anyway. And besides, that eight-ball hadn't even been good, from the half-line he'd taken before he was over it. And he had more hidden elsewhere for when he really needed it, so it was fine.

If they ever brought it up, he'd deal with their questions and all that but until then, he'd just stay quiet about it. There was no point in giving it a second thought, really. It wasn't like there was anything to be done.

He left the game room and headed upstairs, still wearing just his sweatpants, and would have gone to his dressing room to change and properly start the day when he happened to pass the sitting room upstairs and saw Amalia at the bookshelf.

He poked his head in and smiled at her. "Hey. When'd you get here?"

"Just a little bit ago," she said, holding up a flash drive and a book. "I left a few things here, thought I'd come by and get them. I know I said I'd swing by later, but I figured you wouldn't mind."

"Of course not," Jake scoffed. Hell, she practically ran the place as it was. And he liked having her over. "You in Port Charles for the day?"

"As in, am I going to spend the night with you?" She was smirking as he drew closer and Amalia let him pull her into a kiss. "Yeah, I'll be here."

"Good," Jake murmured, easing in for another kiss when she wound her arms around his neck. "How're things with the foundation?"

"Going well." She fiddled with her fingers when he pulled away, heading to his desk. "My dad's pretty much left the whole thing to me now, and we haven't had any problems yet."

"You won't," he smiled, taking a seat and ruffling through the papers he'd left there. It took him a minute to see they were inconsequential and he stuffed them into the drawer. Amalia leaned against the corner of the desk, watching him. "You've been handling it for, what, two years now? Your dad only stepped off because he knew you didn't need him anymore."

Amalia scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, like he'd ever consciously leave part of his business to me."

Jake shrugged. "That's what he told me."

Her eyes widened. "…He actually said that?"

"Yup." Jake reached out and pulled her into his lap, and she gently trailed her fingers down his bare chest. "He gives you a lot more credit than he lets on, you know. And he trusts you and depends on you more than you think."

"Yeah, it'd be nice to hear it every once in a while," she grumbled, hiking up her dress a little so she could straddle him comfortably. His hands settled high on her thighs, molding to the warm flesh. "But he's so conservative that he probably doesn't even know how to tell me that I'm doing a good job. God, my dad's weird."

"Well, he tells me all the time how great you are," Jake grinned, brushing his lips against hers. "I think he just likes to brag."

"Or advertise the goods on the Marriage Shelf," she laughed, kissing him again. "As soon as he gets you on the hook, he'll be telling you that you're too good for me."

"Never," Jake murmured, skimming his hands up her side to pull her even closer. "Not ever."

He shifted in his seat, trying to bring her closer, and Amalia mewed into his mouth. He was still clad in just his sweatpants, and she trailed her fingers all the way down from his chest to the edge of the waistband, then raked her nails sideways low against his stomach in the way she knew got him hard every time.

Jake pulled back to catch a breath and found himself gazing up at her. The sunlight was hitting her just right, making half of her face glow and casting the other half in shadow, and her hair, which was starting to grow out a little, tickled his chin, and the words were out before he even knew it.

"…I love how you take care of me."

She tilted her head to the side, smiling at him strangely, and then smirked superciliously. "You just have Mommy issues."

It was the understatement of the year, but it still made him laugh.

Amalia had paused for a second, and wrinkled her nose. "Well, and also Daddy issues. Just issues in general."

He was smiling even as she pecked his mouth, and he felt an explanation was in order when she looked down at him again. "…Then let me say, I love how you make me feel. Better?"

Amalia smiled indulgently and curled a piece of his hair around her finger. "And how do I make you feel?"

She said it teasingly, but his answer was entirely sincere. "Fragile, sometimes. Complete, unbroken, like there's no part that's missing."

He sighed and closed his eyes, pulling her close so that her forehead rested against his. "You make me feel new."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: ELQ :.**

He should have known better than to be surprised at anything his grandfather did.

When Edward told him that there was an ELQ function that night and he was invited and to please show up in a nice suit, he'd figured it was some lame gala where Edward could pat himself and Jake on the back for all the money they'd made together. He'd show up, he'd drink a little champagne, and then he'd bail without missing anything.

But that wasn't at all what Edward had in mind, and no one was as surprised as Jason when the old man took the podium and announced that after many, many decades of running the family corporation, he was stepping down and turning everything over to his son.

Even Jake had looked surprised, which in turn surprised Jason even more than Edward's news. He had figured that if Edward was turning the company over to his great-grandson, Jake would at least have advance notice.

But it was clear from the look on his son's face and the slow, stumbling beginning of what turned out to be a pretty damn good speech that he had absolutely no idea. The press ate it all up and the flashbulbs exploded in rapid succession, and Jake Morgan took over ELQ a mere three days after taking control of the former Corinthos-Morgan organization.

"Why'd you do it?"

Edward smirked against the rim of his flute glass as they watched Jake graciously accept congratulations and well wishes from the throng that milled around him. "Hm?"

"Why'd you do it?" Jason repeated. "I always thought you'd stay with the company until you died. And you obviously didn't even tell Jake about it. Why the surprise?"

"What, are you insinuating he can't handle it?" Edward asked innocently, still watching his great-grandson. "Well, he's the godfather now, I'm sure he's up to the task."

He glanced over at Jason, saw him balk, and pursed his lips smugly. "Oh, yes, Jason, I know exactly what position Jake accepted three days ago. He doesn't just run the coffee business as he'd have everyone believe – he runs everything. He practically runs the whole town, as it were. I'm well aware of his change in position."

"Then why did you give him this company, too?" Jason pressed. "None of this is like you. What's your plan? What angle are you working over on him?"

The old man smirked. "No angle, Jason. I don't expect anything from him in return for giving him the company. He knew since I found out that he was my great-grandson that I'd pass everything down to him. Michael's going to be taking over for Jax one day, Dillon's happy with what he's doing in Los Angeles and has no plans of coming back, and Spencer already has his own empire. Jake knew that since he wanted the business, he'd get it. I'm backing out and letting him do what he wants with the company. I mean it when I say that I'm retiring."

Jason leveled him with a sour look. "Yeah, right. I'm not an idiot, Edward."

His grandfather laughed. "No, boy, you're just paranoid."

"You gonna give me a straight answer or what?" He looked at him impatiently, over the games. "Why'd you really give it to him? And why now?"

"Well." Edward took a congratulatory sip of his champagne, and Jason could just see him mentally patting himself on the back for his plot. "I just figured that if he had ELQ to juggle along with his mobular duties, he'll pay more attention to the corporation that carried his ancestral name from its very inception and was never tied to that inept fool Corinthos."

He shrugged and looked over at Jake again, watching him smile and laugh with the other guests. "I hope it will encourage him to take things slowly with the business he took from you, if he has to also manage the business he received from me. He's smart about this sort of thing: he won't bite off more than he can chew. He's not Superman. He knows that he has to balance things, he has to juggle them and weigh opportunity costs and compensate as he will."

Edward had to smile when Jake told a joke that made an old colleague of his laugh, even though he was too far to personally hear the joke. "And you know, he's really very good at all the illegal things he does."

He slid a sideways glance at his grandson, looking absolutely tickled as he teased him. "Even a little better than you, I'd say."

Jason worked his jaw and stared down at him. "You hated me for joining with Sonny. _Hated_. And now Jake's in the same position and you – you look like you're almost _proud _that he can handle all this, that he's so powerful, that he's independent, that he doesn't answer to anyone, that everyone comes to him or whatever it is that you're fixated on, so what's the difference? What is the difference?"

Even in the face of Jason's anger and irritation, Edward's lips curled into a soft smile, and he never took his eyes off of his grandson. Jake, who was still accepting congratulations and surrounded by a circle of people, looked over just then and saw the two of them standing together. He caught Edward's eye and grinned, a real, true smile that indicated happiness, pride, mischief, but mostly, genuine affection.

Edward smiled back and his voice dropped to a low murmur. "The difference is, Jacob has _always_ wanted to be a part of my family."


	68. Am I Ever Gonna Hear My Wedding Bells?

**Mean | 67**

_I love you so, I always will_

_And in your voice I hear_

_A choir of carousels._

_Oh, but am I ever gonna hear_

_My wedding bells?_

-- "Wedding Bell Blues," The 5th Dimension

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

Cecily made her way back to the table, carefully balancing a giant platter lined with shots of tequila. Anna and Molly cleared the table so there was enough room, and Anna passed out the little dishes of line to Cecily, Molly, and Amalia, reserving one for herself.

"All right, girls," Cecily said, rubbing her hands together. "This should get us through the first hour, yeah? You know the routine: lick it, down it, bite it."

Anna smirked, reaching for a shot of her own and putting one in front of Amalia, who sat with her chin propped up in her hands. "You know, me and my mom were talking once and tequila shots came up somehow and she was all, oh, yeah, lick it, slam it, suck it, and I was like, how old are you? Jeez."

"Come on, Li," Molly coaxed, picking up her lime and shot glass after applying the salt. "We've got liquid cheer a-plenty for you. It'll have you feeling better in no time, tee-tee-el-why."

Amalia sniffled and reached for a shot, downing it in one go with little fuss. Anna gaped at her and then stared down at her limes.

"Okay, now I just feel like a wuss."

Amalia reached for another two shot glasses and downed them in succession, gagging at the aftertaste, and covered her face in her hands. Cecily clucked and looped her arm around her friend's shoulder, holding her close.

"Lia, come on. It'll be okay."

"No, it won't," she got out, shaking her head. Her short hair, not fastened with her normal sparkly barrettes, hung in her face. "Oh, God."

"Tell us what happened," Molly said gently, tucking her best friend's hair behind her ear. "Come on, it can't be as bad as all that, can it?"

"Oh, it's worse." Amalia straightened, and they saw that her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. "I…"

"Go on," Anna encouraged, "no sense in keeping anything inside, not in a town this small. If you don't tell us today, chances are, we'll hear from the mailman tomorrow."

That got her the barest hint of a wobbly smile, and Amalia took a fortifying breath. "…My dad wants me to get married."

"Well…he's wanted that for a while, right?" Cecily asked, looking around at the others. She didn't want to seem insensitive, but Papa Zacchara's eagerness to find his daughter a nice boy was no secret. "And you've always handled it. What's new now?"

Amalia let out a shuddery breath and ended up hiccupping. "He wants me to marry this one guy who's-who's-who's from this old mob family, and he knows his father and the two of them have talked and they think it'll be a good partnership."

Molly's lips pursed together at that. Of the three girls, she knew best about Amalia's arguments with her father. She understood Johnny's point – obviously, he had a sprawling, lucrative empire and he wanted to be sure that it went to someone who wouldn't run it into the ground and would always take care of his only child – but she'd also seen what it had done to her friend over the years.

Amalia never talked to her father about her romantic life. There was no point, it only started arguments. Back when they were all teenagers and no one knew the truth about Jake, Johnny hadn't reacted all that well to the two of them seeing each other. He liked Jake well enough, always had because he'd grown up right in front of him, but he knew that Jake wasn't marriage material and therefore he couldn't encourage it.

When the truth about Jake came out and Johnny realized that not only was he of mafia birth but that he was also capable of at least partly running an empire, he'd warmed up a little to whatever relationship Jake and Amalia seemed to have. Still, Molly knew that Amalia lied to her father all the time about spending time with Jake, and that Johnny had no idea how serious things were.

"And I don't want to marry him," her best friend was saying, practically choking on the words. "He's gross and not completely all there upstairs and he's probably a wife-beater and he smells weird and he uses too much fucking hair product and-"

"Whoa, whoa." Cecily stroked her hair back from her face and had her rest her head against her shoulder. "It's okay, it's okay, we all hate him already on principle."

"And me and my dad had a _really_ big fight," Amalia said quietly. "It was really bad. We've never fought like this before. I told him that I wasn't going to marry that guy, and he went off about all the guys I've rejected and have been rejecting for years and how he doesn't know what I'm thinking, and then I told him that he could stop being a dinosaur and just trust that I can run the business on my own and he said there was no way he was leaving it all to me and that girls born into this life, there were certain expectations of them and they were supposed to follow through with those and all that garbage."

Anna managed a weak smile. "Well, it's nothing you haven't already told him a million times before."

"…We had this argument in front of Hair Product Guy and his dad."

Molly winced. "Ooh."

"…And I _might_ have somehow let it slip that I'm not a virgin anymore, which is a really huge deal on the Marriage Mart."

The three girls groaned in unison, and Anna actually covered her face in her hands. "Oh, Lia, _no_. Oh, God."

"Yeah," Amalia muttered glumly as Cecily hugged her even tighter.

"Okay, okay." Ever the mediating problem-solver, Cecily tried to analyze the situation positively. "Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds. Maybe it's okay. Right? Right?"

"I need another shot."

Molly handed it off to her immediately and Amalia downed it, this time reaching for a lime. "Oh, God, I can't even imagine. If you want to stay with me for a few days, Li, you totally can. Seriously."

"Thanks, Moll, but it's fine." She sighed heavily and propped her chin up in her hands. "It'll blow over. It'll take longer than usual, but it'll blow over. He won't talk to me for two weeks and then eventually he'll let it go and accept that I'm used goods or whatever archaic construction he's got set up in his head."

Cecily hated that kind of talk and began to run her fingers through Amalia's shoulder-length hair. "Well…what about Jake?"

"He doesn't know," she said automatically. "He's close with my dad, and he'd just get mad if he heard about this, and he'd probably bring it up in some passive-aggressive way in front of him and then they'd fight and my dad would be even madder that I'm spreading my tales of debauchery around."

"No debauchery," Anna maintained firmly. "Certainly not on your end. Don't even talk like that."

"No," Cecily cut in again, "I meant…what about Jake? Like, your dad's so fixated on you getting married and him having someone to pass the whole business to, someone to make grandbabies and continue on the family line…what about Jake? Have you talked to him about that? Jake's in the business, he runs his own organization _and_ lots of others, and ELQ on top of that as of last week, so why not him? He's probably one of the better candidates."

Amalia was shaking her head firmly. "No, no, no. Jake would never do it."

"What do you mean?"

She spared her a humorless look. "Seriously? In what world do you see Jake getting down on one knee with a ring and asking me to marry him with-with promises of love and forever and rainbows and doves? We've teased each other about it, but I know the way it really is. It's not going to happen. He's too…immature for that still. God, he's stupid. My boyfriend's hopelessly stupid, you guys."

"The stupidest," Anna agreed, mostly because she felt like she should. "God, we're just so lucky that he even knows how to wash himself. Yutz."

That made Amalia laugh, and Cecily flashed Anna a grateful look. She rubbed her friend's arm and offered her another shot. She was fairly sure that Coleman had watered these down, but not positive. And at any rate, Amalia could hold her liquor pretty damn well.

"I've known it for years, you know," Amalia murmured, almost as if she were talking to herself. "I've known for years that he hated the idea of marriage, of settling down with someone. Of course, it's because he's stupid enough to look at his parents, to look at Elizabeth and Jason and the Commissioner and Leo and even your parents, Ceece, from before they got their crap together, and think that their marriages or failed marriages or lack of marriages is what married life is. He's turned himself to it because he looks at them and he sees how they've failed – not your parents, Ceece – and he doesn't think he's better than them, good enough to make it work where they couldn't. God, he's dumb."

She shook her head and angrily tossed the sucked up lime into an empty dish. "But I'm dumber. Because I just couldn't stay away from him. I just wanted to be with him, even if it hurt, because…just because. And he's never going to want the things I want, and he's never going to believe in forever the way I do, because I've seen my parents who didn't even know each other but still got together and are still together and happy, and I know it's going to hurt later when we crash and burn, but being with him in the moment is always worth it and…I'm just so dumb."

"Not dumb," Cecily corrected. "Brave, I think, in your own way. You're actually able to live in the moment, Lia, to take what you want now and not freak yourself out or overanalyze yourself out of it. Do you know how many people wish they had the guts to do that?"

"Besides," Anna piped up, readying another shot, "I don't think this is over by a long shot."

Amalia looked at her apprehensively. "Uh, 'this' meaning what?"

"Meaning you and Jake, duh," she replied pertly. "Like, you guys know how I write crummy, soapy romance novels in between my serious books so that I can trick publishers into being like, whoa, we gotta have the new Drake manuscript?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, if I was writing the romance story of Jake and Amalia," she continued, spreading her hands as if painting a picture, "I'd be, like, halfway through my main story arc at this point. And I'd write this super angsty bit where you almost have to marry this crazy mob guy and Jake's all, noooooo, I don't want her to, shit, I'm going to have to stop being dumb, but it's so hard because I'm so very dumb, and then he'd try to go after you, but you'd be resigned to your fate already because you think he's not interested enough to fight for you-"

Molly, Cecily, and Amalia were exchanging concerned looks. "Um, Anna…?"

"And then you two would, like, totally get together, and you'd think it was the last time and he would be all, yes, I have a chance, and then? And then? I'd totally give you guys a surprise baby. Followed by a marriage of convenience because of said surprise baby."

She was smiling broadly even as Amalia buried her face in hands and Cecily and Molly stared at her as if she was crazy.

"Oh, my God, Anna, seriously, shut it."

"Whatever," she scoffed, downing her shot and then quickly biting into the lime. It took her a minute to be able to respond. "Surprise babies are a staple of the industry, jerks. Read a damn book."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

"Jason?" She peeked out from behind her curtains, watching the strange man poke around the perimeter of her house. "It's me. Listen, there's someone at the house. I don't know, I don't think so. No, he keeps walking around the side of the house, really close to the windows. I can't find my guards, it's like they just disappeared. Come over. Please?"

He'd been spending a lot of time at her house – including nights – but had gone back to Harborview a couple days ago to handle some business with Sonny. She knew that Jason and Sonny didn't have much to do anymore, and almost felt bad for them, but Elizabeth was also aware that Sonny was conducting business on the side, having started up one or two slow new ventures after being forced out of his business, as he claimed he was. Jason still helped him manage those.

She sat down in the stairwell, away from all the windows, until he got there, and Elizabeth fairly flew at the door when she heard him approach.

"Well? Did you find out anything?"

"…I don't see him," Jason admitted slowly. "I looked all around the house, but I didn't see him. There's no one there. What did he look like?"

"He was wearing jeans and a green plaid shirt, and he had on this hat with a low brim." She used her hands to form the bill of the cap, illustrating it for him. "And he wore these muddy brown boots, and he had a mustache, and Jason, I'm pretty sure he had a gun."

His eyes widened and Jason pulled his hand out from behind him, and she saw that he already came prepared with his own weapon engaged at his side. "All right, you're fine, you're safe here, everything's going to be fine. Did you hear him leave? Did you hear the sound of any car coming or going? Did you see which direction he went before you lost sight of him?"

Elizabeth shook her head nervously and pointed to the landing in the stairwell. "No, I just – I thought I saw a gun, and so I sat there until you came. I didn't see anything."

Jason pursed his lips, either in irritation or frustration, she couldn't tell. "I'll look around, see if I can find anything. Where are your guards?"

"I don't know," she repeated. "I can't see them anywhere."

"What the hell did Jake put guards on you for if he can't even guarantee that they'll do their job?" he growled, turning toward the door. He looked through the window suspiciously and caught sight of a white van parked a bit down the street. There was a man standing by it, dressed in blue jeans and boots and that green shirt, like Elizabeth said. There was definitely something clipped to his side in a black leather case, and he had something metallic in his hands.

His eyes narrowed and he readied his weapon, waiting for when the guy got closer. "I think I see him…"

Just then, Elizabeth's guards appeared from behind the open back door of the truck. One of them carried a box and the other was looking over something on a clipboard. Jason frowned, lowering his weapon, and pulled it behind him when the men started walking toward the house.

"Jason?" Elizabeth saw him withdraw his weapon and moved closer, concerned. "What are you doing? You said you saw him, the guy that was creeping around the house."

Jason pulled open the door as the men hit the driveway and nodded at them. "I think it's a misunderstanding…"

She would have asked him to explain but just then, a familiar black car pulled up right in front of the house and Jake got out. He was dressed in one of his fancy suits, had his phone to his ear, and did not look pleased. His expression didn't change when he saw Jason standing in the front door of his mother's house.

The men were close enough now to be in earshot, and Jake walked up to the man that Elizabeth thought had been behaving suspiciously.

"You, Fullerton."

Jason glanced over at the truck a house or two away and sawthe surname printed on the cab, followed by the words _Plumbing and Appliances._

The man turned around and immediately stood a little straighter. "Sir."

"What the hell's the problem?" Jake asked without removing his phone from his ear. "What the hell's so important that you had to call me over?"

The guy named Fullerton glanced at Elizabeth, who was watching closely. "Sir, I was doing a routine inspection of the house and it looks like there's water collecting in the basement. I think it's most likely the sump pump that's busted, and I just wanted to know if it was okay to replace it. I have the new one right here, if-"

Jake growled in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, my directions were very simple. What did I tell you when I hired you? Look around at the house every week or two. If something needs fixing, fix it. I don't get why that's suddenly so complicated and why you needed my personal approval on changing the damn sump pump. But since it obviously was, I'll say it again: From now on, if something needs to be fixed, fix it. Don't worry about the cost. I pay you every cent you charge me, don't I?"

"Yes, you do."

"Good. So fix it and send me the bill and don't call me around unnecessarily. Get help from one of my men here if you need it."

Elizabeth's two guards nodded and Jake turned, dismissing them. He was clearly in a hurry and barely managed to do more than wave goodbye to Elizabeth as he spoke again into his phone.

"Yeah, no, fucking stupidest reason to have me delay my flight. Look, just meet me in Hartford as planned. I'll be there as soon as I can. Yeah, going to the air field now. See you in a bit."

The man known as Fullerton came a little closer to show them the sump pump fixture he had with him, and that was when Elizabeth saw that the thing clipped to his belt, the thing she thought was a gun in its holster, was nothing more than his walkie-talkie in a leather case. She smiled tightly and nodded when he excused himself, then turned sheepishly to Jason.

"Whoops."

He smiled a little and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'm glad you called me."

Elizabeth smiled back before looking back at the house and again at him, pointedly this time. "…I'm glad you came. You could come inside, you know."

Jason nodded and stepped back into the house, slipping his gun back into place and tossing his jacket onto the rack. She watched him wander into the family room and flop down on the couch, and was belatedly struck by how at home he looked there.

With a sigh, she closed the door as Jake's car purred and pulled away from the curb.


	69. Honey, Don't Think About It

**Mean | 68**

_Honey don't think  
About it too long now  
Honey don't think._

-- "Honey, Don't Think," Grant Lee Buffalo

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

"Jason, wake up."

He grumbled and rolled over, turning his face into the pillow, but Elizabeth wasn't having any of that. She was already out of bed and dressed in one of her nightshirts, gathering her things to go take a shower and start getting ready.

"Come on, come on, you have to wake up." She planted her hands on his bare shoulder and shook him again. "Jason…we have to get ready."

He rolled over again, on his back, and finally propped himself up. "Jake's thing tonight?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah. The ball starts at seven and we both still have to get ready."

Jason groaned and tossed the sheets aside, sitting up on the edge of the bed. His boxers were on the floor by his feet and he slowly pulled them on, then stood and reached for his pants. "…I still can't believe any kid of mine is throwing a _ball_."

She laughed despite herself and picked up his t-shirt, shaking out the wrinkles, before handing it to him. "Well, he made it sound like a big deal, and from what I hear, half the town is coming, so it's not like we can skip it."

"No," Jason agreed. He was fully dressed now and stood in his socks in her bedroom at the old house he'd always loved. "I wouldn't have skipped it."

"I wonder what the party's for," Elizabeth mused. "I mean, I guess it could be for nothing, just a chance to hang out, but he invited Lucky and Garrett Floyd and Alexis, and you know how he feels about them. He might have still invited Lucky – they still talk – but he hates Floyd and he's not crazy about Alexis."

Jason shrugged. "I haven't heard anything."

"I know," she replied far too quickly. "I didn't really expect an answer. I was just…wondering."

She cleared her throat as he stepped into his shoes. "So, uh, you'd better head out, get ready. And I'll see you there in an hour or two."

Jason nodded. "Yeah. You, uh…You know, we could…go together. If you wanted, I mean."

Elizabeth looked away, then back up at him hesitantly. "Actually…I think it'd be better if we just showed up separately. I mean, we both got separate invitations and…for now, at least, it would be better, don't you think?"

He didn't. He didn't feel the need to hide that he and Elizabeth were together again, that they had been since shortly after new of Jake's paternity came out. He didn't care what people in this town thought. He didn't care what they'd say about him, whether or not it was right or not. But he knew Elizabeth cared about such things even though she said she didn't, and he didn't want to make her do something she wasn't comfortable doing. If she didn't want to go public as a couple or whatever they were, then that was fine.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll see you there."

She nodded and rose on her toes to kiss him as he left. "See you."

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

Elizabeth was talking to Robin and Lucky when Jason walked into the grand ballroom at Morgan Manor, dressed in a black suit and looking impeccable as usual. She loved him in his jeans and t-shirts, but she loved him more in suits. He just looked so put together and perfect, even all these years later.

He paused in the doorway, looking around, and then spotted Spinelli on the other side of the room. She watched him walk past the live orchestra to where his friend was and say hi, and then the two of them made their way over to their host. Jake actually smiled and shook their hands, and Elizabeth saw him gesture to the bar. He patted Jason's arm and turned, repeating the same salutations for another guest that had just arrived and sought him out.

She kept watching him – discreetly, so that Lucky wouldn't make any of his snide remarks – and a couple minutes later, Jason appeared to casually scan the room. He looked bored, distant, but she knew better: he was looking for her. Their eyes caught and the corner of his mouth turned up, but Maxie appeared at his side just then with an extra bottle of beer and said something that made his eyes crinkle first in confusion and then amusement.

Rather than approach him so soon, Elizabeth stayed where she was. Lucky moved away when he saw Garrett Floyd arrive and Patrick joined Elizabeth and Robin. She chatted with them for a while, enjoying the pretty music the orchestra played and lazily sipping her cocktail. All in all, this was turning out to be a very nice party.

More than half the town was represented, most of them from the upper echelon, people she only met whenever Nikolas threw parties on Spoon Island. They seemed to know Jake very well, which didn't surprise her anymore, and she idly watched them chat and laugh and drink with him throughout the evening. Her son could schmooze with the best of them, that was for sure. He always looked so at ease at these parties, gliding from one group to another, his smile never fading, drink always in hand. He was a good host, mostly because he could fake things very well and keep people from knowing what he was really thinking or feeling on the inside.

And God knew he'd faked it with her for about twenty years, too.

Patrick and Robin had excused themselves to go dance, and Elizabeth looked around for someone that she hadn't talked to yet. Johnny and Nadine were just a couple steps away and she grimaced, turning her back. Their friendship had never recovered after Elizabeth realized that the man and woman she'd considered good friends for the past twenty years knew about her secret and never said anything to her about it. She didn't particularly care to speak to them tonight, so she wouldn't.

Nikolas stood a bit toward the corner of the room, talking to Edward, and she stayed away from him, too. He'd made it very clear after finding out the truth about Jake that he wanted little, if anything, to do with her. So Elizabeth looked around some more, saw Jake dancing with Cecily, saw Amalia talking to Spencer and Laurenna, and finally spotted her son Cameron talking to Lulu.

She made her way over to them and talked to Lulu for a bit as the servers continued to move through the room with hors d'oeuvres. The orchestra played on and on the dance floor, Jake was still dancing with Cecily.

"Good turnout tonight," she mused, sweeping her gaze across the room as he turned her gracefully. "Oh, look, Mayor Floyd's actually talking to Jason. And there's Lia's dad with Spinelli. You don't see them together very often."

Jake chuckled and glanced over at the two. Johnny caught his gaze and his expression soured for a minute before he turned slightly, facing Spinelli more directly. Jake frowned but was snapped out of it when Cecily wiggled her hand in his.

"Hey. When're you guys going to make the announcement?"

"I'm not making any announcement," Jake shrugged as the music began to fade. "This is Morgan's thing. He'll stand up whenever he thinks it's the right time."

"There he is," she cut in, jerking her chin toward her older brother. "I'm going to go talk to him and see. Back in a bit."

Jake let her go and turned around, seeking out Amalia. She was standing off toward the terrace as Spencer and Laur drew away to dance, and he headed straight for her.

"Hey."

She was a vision in pale gold, a slight departure from the white and dusty silver she preferred, and her hair was down in fat waves. "Hey, yourself. How's Morgan doing?"

"Good, good," Jake nodded. "Not nervous at all."

"He'll do great," Amalia said confidently. "This was a long time coming, and he'll do just fine."

"Yeah." He watched her out of the corner of his eye, watched her smile at the guests that looked her way, watched her sway almost imperceptibly to the music. "You want to dance?"

"Sure."

He took her hand and led her out onto the floor. She followed his lead gracefully, moving in step with him, and his hand settled comfortably at the narrow pinch of her waist. Jake turned her in time to the music and, as he did, once again caught Johnny's gaze as the older man danced with his wife. Johnny's eyes narrowed slightly, almost imperceptibly, but Jake still noticed. Nadine followed her husband's gaze and saw who he was discreetly glaring at, and she immediately started talking in order to divert his attention.

Jake frowned and would have said something, but Amalia seemed to be enjoying herself and he didn't want to ruin it. His father stood on the edge of the dance floor, flanked by Sonny and Jax, and was in his direct line of vision. Jake noticed soon enough, though, that Jason didn't appear to be watching him and Amalia – or at least, they weren't afforded his undivided attention. Elizabeth stood on the other side of the dance floor, talking to Molly and Alexis, and it was she who Jason was staring at.

Jake rolled his eyes, making Amalia smirk.

"What?"

"My parents are weird."

"Well, at least yours are talking to you," she murmured, her eyes still twinkling. "…Although in your situation, I wouldn't know if that was a good thing or not."

He laughed and pulled her just a little closer, now watching Morgan talk to Anna. She was gesturing animatedly and he was looking at her as if she were insane, their typical dynamic. Few people annoyed Morgan like Anna did, something that held true since their childhood, and few people frustrated Anna like stodgy, boring old Morgan.

Presently the song ended, and Jake danced next with Molly and then with Kristina, and then again with Cecily, just for fun. He was the host, after all, so he figured he'd better make himself available to dance. When he got tired of it, he excused himself and found Amalia again. She had just taken a phone call on the terrace and was coming back in, and smiled when she saw him.

They said nothing, just settled back comfortably at the fringes of the room and watched everyone else. Johnny was once again dancing with Nadine and looked to be in improved spirits.

Jake eyed Amalia hesitantly. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

She nodded as a fleet of servers began moving through the room with trays of champagne flutes. That could only mean that Morgan was ready to make his announcement. "Sure, go ahead."

"…Your dad's been acting strange around me for the last week or two," Jake admitted slowly. "Sometimes he ignores me and sometimes he just looks at me…weird. What's his deal, do you know?"

"Oh, that." Amalia accepted the champagne, as did Jake, and waited until the server had gone to serve someone else. "He suspects you of having taken my virginity."

Jake, who'd made the mistake of taking a quick sip just then, choked on it. He composed himself before too many people could notice, and saw Amalia eyeing him, amused. "Ah…well. That'll do it."

They broke out in matching grins at the same time, and he clicked his glass with hers as they chuckled. Amalia shook her head in exasperation, a careless apology.

"You know how he can be."

"Eh." Jake shrugged and glanced over at Johnny, who was handing his wife her glass. "Well, the way I've always been around you, I figure I probably had it coming."

Before she could comment on that strange remark, Jake took a step forward and called for everyone's attention. "Everyone. First off, I'd like to thank all of you for joining us tonight at Morgan Manor. I hope you enjoy the food, the drinks, and the music. Just make yourself at home and if you need anything, please feel free to ask the staff."

He gestured with his glass toward Morgan, who stood just a few steps away now, and paused slightly so that the society reporters in the room could snap their pictures and get their voice recorders ready. "And now, if you'd turn your attention over to my friend, Morgan Corinthos, I believe he has something he'd like to say."

Jake drew back, taking the attention away from himself and passing it to his friend, but Johnny's eyes remained on him. The older man saw him pull away and discreetly take Amalia's free hand, linking their fingers, and hold it behind their backs so that no one would notice. His expression softened just a little and he turned away from his daughter and Jake and looked to Morgan as everyone else did.

"Ladies and gentlemen." The corner of Morgan's mouth curved up as he looked at Jake, who was grinning. "Without wasting any time, yours or mine, I'd like to take this moment to announce my candidacy for Mayor of Port Charles."

~*~*~*~*~*~

After the craziness had died down and all the reporters had gotten their pictures for the next day's paper, Jake and Morgan were able to steal away and have a private conversation at the corner of the bar.

"You did it."

"Sure looks that way," Morgan smiled. "You didn't happen to get a look at my dad's face, did you?"

"White as a fucking sheet."

"How fun."

"Yeah, I thought so," Jake grinned. "Jason looked like he was going to be sick, so that was something, too."

Morgan laughed and swirled his scotch, eyeing it contemplatively. "…No trying to back out of it now. And no room for failure, either, otherwise my father won't ever shut up."

"Look." Jake grasped Morgan's shoulder and shook it slightly. "We'll get you that office, man. It'll be a done deal."

That made him laugh. "I want to be able to get it on my own, thanks."

"Well, sure, but I'm just trying to be realistic."

"Fuck you, asshole," Morgan retorted, but he was smiling. "That's your answer to everything."

"Only because it works," Jake grinned before sobering up. "Listen, you'll get it. With my help or without it, either way, you will. You'll be a great mayor. Much better than our current one. Although that's really not saying much."

Morgan clicked his nails on the counter and finally looked up. "…Doesn't it concern you a little that we'll be on opposite sides? Me in the mayor's office and you…on the waterfront?"

Jake smiled and snatched up Morgan's scotch, taking a big gulp. "Let's worry about that _after_ you win, yeah?"


	70. Rain's Coming

**Mean | 69**

_(They said a rain's coming)  
It's been coming down all day out there  
(And all evening)  
It's not letting up._

-- "Water Makes the Weeds Grow Tall," The Forecast

**.: Port Charles Park :.**

Elizabeth loved these town picnics that were held every summer, and this year was no exception. She'd baked two pies, one cherry and one apple, loaded them into her favorite picnic basket with plenty of napkins and utensils, and joined Patrick and Robin at the park. The three of them were currently seated on Robin's blanket with Anna, who was taking a lengthy inventory of all the food they'd brought.

Her other friends and acquaintances were present and accounted for. Jax and Carly were seated on matching lawn chairs, and Sonny was taking up the third one. Morgan and Cecily were milling around, presumably, and Alexis was there with Kristina and Ric, who was spending the week in town. Sam had also returned to town to visit her mother and sisters and was off by the stage with Lucky, watching one of the bands made up of kids from the community center set up. Nikolas was there with his daughter-in-law, Laurenna, but there were no signs of Spencer. Lulu had arrived and was hurrying toward Sam and Lucky, and even the Quartermaines were present with about half their staff.

"Anna, where's your brother?"

She didn't even look up from her inspection of the pies. "Oh, he's coming. He and CeeCee were supposed to come together but I think he had to stay late at the hospital with a patient. You know how it is."

"I like your skirt," Elizabeth commented, fingering the pretty chiffon material of her printed floral skirt. "It's very cute."

Anna rolled her eyes. "I had to wear something loose and knee-length and house marmy. See that big group over there?"

Elizabeth looked to where she pointed. "Yeah…?"

"Those are my students," Anna sighed. "I can't wear miniskirts or halter tops in front of them."

"Thank God for small miracles," Patrick muttered, blowing the dust off his glasses. His eyesight just wasn't what it used to be. "Honey, pass me that thing of cole slaw if all you're going to do is poke at it."

"I've totally forgotten what it's like to even dress my own age," she continued, rooting through the basket as Patrick began to spoon out some slaw for himself. "You know, tight jeans, lacy camisoles, miniskirts, tube tops, super low necklines…I mean, I've still got a couple years until I hit thirty, and I dress like…like…my mother."

Robin rolled her eyes. "Thank you, sweetie."

"You're welcome, Mom," Anna replied absently. "No chocolate in here? Man, what a bust. Mrs. Jacks? Hey! Mrs. Jacks!"

Carly, who was talking to Sonny, looked over at her. "What?"

"Do you have chocolate?"

"Always." As Sonny frowned, Carly reached into her picnic basket and pulled out a plastic container of brownies she'd picked up from Kelly's that morning. "I brought those for Morgan, so-"

Anna squealed gleefully as she caught the box in her lap. "Well, he can go without. It's probably just as well. No one wants a pudgy mayor."

"I wonder where the rest of the kids are," Robin murmured, looking around the grounds. "Oh, there's Morgan, I see him. That's CeeCee over there in the dress. There are Johnny and Nadine…There's Kristina with her mother. Oh, Cam and Molly just got here with Lia and…Oh."

Elizabeth followed her gaze to the entrance of the park and was able to make out her oldest son and his girlfriend, along with Amalia, Spencer, and Jake. The rest of them were a few steps ahead but Jake and Cameron were trailing along, followed only by Chase and some younger guard that she didn't recognize.

They were obviously talking about something serious, and Jake looked to be in a terrible mood. His hands were curled into fists and jammed into his pockets, his shoulders stiff, his expression dark, his entire body tense and drawn in. He kept looking around, too, at all the buildings near the park, all the rooftops, and Cameron appeared to be trying to soothe him.

She could see that Jake had said something most likely very ugly because Cameron's expression changed, and none of them were prepared for it when her son pulled his arm back, made a tight fist, and swung at his younger brother so hard that Jake was actually knocked to his feet.

Robin gasped and Patrick choked on his cole slaw, drawing the attention of the Jacks family and Sonny, and then, of course, Jason and the Spinellis, and then the Quartermaines, and soon everyone close enough was staring at the two Webber boys.

Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hands when Jake was thrown to the ground, and she saw him lift his hand to his cheek, testing for blood or broken bone. Before she could even make a sound, Jake let out an angry growl and hopped to his feet before fairly launching himself at Cameron, successfully tackling him to the ground.

The boys rolled around on the grass, knocking into the decorations that had been put up for the Annual Dog Days of Summer Picnic, and even as she scrambled to her feet, Elizabeth could see Jake land a solid punch to Cameron's nose before her oldest threw him off and jumped on him.

Amalia found herself in the path of their scuffle and might have gotten knocked over had Spencer not grabbed her just then, pulling her into him and making sure she was out of their reach. Molly was almost hit by a falling papier-mâché pillar when Cameron knocked it with one of his legs, but managed to hop out of the way. The junior guard that was with them tried to jump into the fray to separate the two and everyone was surprised when Chase, the senior guard, pulled him back and shook his head.

Jake finally managed to shove Cameron off of him and the brothers separated, breathing hard and glaring at each other. Cameron's nose was bleeding and he was holding his side, and Jake's lip and cheek were bleeding. Amalia was still standing next to Spencer, gaping at the two of them, and no one else made any move to get closer.

Elizabeth, who was already on her feet, started pushing through the crowd to get through to her boys and was very dimly aware of Jason following her, but she was too far. Jake spared one last murderous look at his brother before he turned, spitting blood out of his mouth as he did so. Elizabeth called out to him but he didn't hear her and instead flicked his wrist for Chase and the other guard to follow him.

As Jake drew away, Molly came up to Cameron's side and reached out for him, but he briskly shook her away and turned on his heel, heading down the trail away from the picnic and the rest of the crowd. Amalia didn't say anything as Elizabeth finally trotted up, a little out of breath, looking back and forth as if she didn't know which son to follow. Spencer reached out for before she could make up her mind and put a gentle hand on her forearm.

"I think you'd better just let them go," he said kindly.

She stared up at him, absently wondering how he could seem so calm after that fight. "What – what was that about? What happened?"

Amalia and Spencer exchanged looks and she knew in that moment that they knew, but when Spencer looked back at her, he was shrugging apologetically.

"I'm sorry, but I can't be sure."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: General Hospital, Fifth Floor Hub :.**

"Um…hi."

Elizabeth looked up from her files to see a hesitant Amalia standing in front of her, nibbling on her lower lip. She put down her pen and forced a bright smile. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I'm meeting my mother for lunch, and I have no idea where she is," she said. "She said she'd meet me in the waiting area about fifteen minutes ago, and I was wondering if maybe she was held up in surgery or if there was something going on…"

She made it a point not to know where Nadine was or what she was doing, but Elizabeth wiggled the mouse and brought her monitor back to life. "I could check for you real quick."

Amalia's expression relaxed into an easy smile. "That'd be great. Thanks."

She cleared her throat as Elizabeth pulled up the schedules for pediatrics. "So, um, you okay? After yesterday, I mean? It was a lot to take in…"

Elizabeth sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just worried about the boys. They really went at it."

Amalia was nodding. "Cam's nose is broken."

"Yeah," she affirmed. "It is. But he got it fixed, it's set, it'll heal in time."

"And his side was bothering him."

"Just some bruises," Elizabeth said, the relief evident in her voice. "He didn't break or fracture anything. And, um…" She tucked her hair behind her ear, her eyes narrowing. "What about Jake? I called the house all day, and I called his cell about twenty times, but no one picked up, and I tried-"

"Jake's fine," Amalia assured her. "He just cut his lip, and it's a little swollen, but it'll be fine. And he didn't break anything. He's got a big cut on his cheek, got a couple stitches for that, but otherwise, he's fine."

Elizabeth nodded jerkily. "Good. That's…good. I just…I still can't believe that happened. They really went at it."

Amalia nodded sympathetically.

"It's just…I've never seen them fight that way," she admitted quietly. "They used to occasionally when they were kids, obviously, but all boys do that. They never did it…seriously."

"I think it was just something they needed to get out," Amalia said slowly, carefully choosing her words. "You know how these things go sometimes. Especially with guys. They'll fight, they'll let it all out, and then they'll be okay."

"I just hate the thought of them fighting," Elizabeth said, shaking her head. "They were always very close. Cameron looked after Jake the best he could, and Jake always tried to live up to what he thought Cam's expectations of him were. I was surprised for a long time: I didn't know how I lucked out that I had two sons that were so close and got along so well. Of course, then we found out it was because Cameron knew about Jason…"

Amalia didn't take the bait and just kept her mouth shut.

"I just hate the thought of them not even having each other anymore." Her eyes were dull as she scanned Nadine's daily log. "They always did, and now it's just another rift in the family…"

"Honestly…" Amalia leaned closer and dropped her voice, as if imparting a secret. "It's okay. I think things are going to be just fine. Jake and Cameron are fine."

Elizabeth was shaking her head. "No, they were really going at it. I don't think they'll be fine, just like that."

"They are," Amalia insisted. She'd already seen Cameron and Jake – together – that morning, and she knew why the two of them had gotten into a fight. They'd been talking and something about Jason had come up, about back when Jake was a baby and Jason left their mother and refused to have anything to do with them, and Jake had said something ugly about how the only way Jason would have gotten what he'd deserved was if an enemy of his really did kidnap and kill Jake all because Jason wasn't there to do anything about it.

Cameron had been appalled at the sentiment and executed the first blow, and the fight escalated from there. What he didn't know – what none of them knew – at the time was that Jake was upset and bitter enough to say something like that because he'd only discovered about ten minutes earlier that there was a plan underway to target Elizabeth and Cameron at the picnic. His enemies figured that they'd try to knock off Jake's brother and mother and if Jake hadn't discovered the snipers on the rooftops of nearby buildings, the two of them would very likely have been dead. He'd dealt with the shooters – given orders for their execution after thorough questioning – and then joined his brother for the picnic as they'd agreed, but in less than pleasant spirits.

Once Cameron learned that, he understood how wound up Jake had been at that time and what hearing something like that had done to him that day. The brothers had apologized and put it behind them, and Amalia had seen it firsthand. And it certainly wasn't her fault that neither Jake or Cameron bothered to fill Elizabeth in about it. Sure, they wouldn't have told her about the plan to take down the two Webbers because Elizabeth was very sensitive about hearing mob business like that and didn't take well to it, obviously, (otherwise, arguably, the whole situation never would have progressed so far as for her to kick Jason out of his son's life) but they could have at least made something up.

"They are," Amalia repeated. "Trust me, Jake and Cameron are just fine."

Elizabeth jabbed at the left button of the mouse and arched a brow at her. "And what would _you_ know about it?"

"Clearly, a lot more than you do," Amalia retorted before she could stop herself. She cringed when Elizabeth stared at her, and then delicately cleared her throat.

"I didn't mean it the way it must have sounded," she said quietly. "I only meant to reassure you that Jake and Cameron are fine. They're brothers, they're not going to turn their backs on each other because of one stupid fight."

Elizabeth's expression remained tight. "Your mother was in surgery and was probably let out a little late. She'll probably be here any minute."

Amalia tilted her chin up a notch, her expression hardening as well, and turned away. "Thank you for your help."


	71. Playing the Cards You Get

**Note – **I had a super mean note here all ready to go, but it's so not worth it. God, this show sucks. And other things related to it suck as well, but I'll leave that out. Wouldn't want to be too negative. Some people can't handle that.

**R for graphic language. **

**Mean | 70**

_Running against the wind,_

_Playing the cards you get,_

_Something is bound to give._

_There's hope for the hopeless._

-- "Hope for the Hopeless," A Fine Frenzy

**.: MetroCourt Restaurant & Bar :.**

It was the thirtieth anniversary of the MetroCourt Hotel, Restaurant & Bar, and everyone in town had turned up to celebrate alongside Mister and Mrs. Jacks. The main joke of the evening was that Carly had managed to hang on to a business for even longer than she'd managed to hang on to a husband, but everyone was careful not to mention this around either of the two hosts.

Jake was there, solo as usual, and Amalia had shown up with Molly and Kristina. Morgan was there with Michael, who'd moved things around in order to come home and support his parents, and Cecily, as always, was on Mal's arm for the evening. Anna showed up with her father since her mother was at the hospital, having conveniently forgotten to switch her shifts, and Cameron had shown up with Elizabeth since she usually didn't have anyone to go to these events with.

Jason was there, of course, along with Sonny and the Spinellis and the Zaccharas and Alexis and even Ric, who happened to be in town for a deposition, came out for the night.

Jake and the others had gathered and formed their own little group almost instantly, not that anyone was surprised. The members of that group always gravitated toward each other no matter what the setting was. The drinks had been served, the appetizers were going around, and they were all making fun of Cameron for almost sharing his birthday with a stupid hotel when Jake looked over at his mother, who'd walked over to say a polite hello to Jason, all very innocuous.

It was almost amusing, how coy they were when they were forced together in public. Jake knew well enough by now to know that his parents were once again involved, and it didn't really bother him one way or another. It wasn't that it pleased him or displeased him, it was just that he quite plainly didn't care what they were up to.

But still, it was amusing how they'd keep up pretenses in public and how careful they were to look like only a little more than casual acquaintances…even though everyone in town, in state, hell, in the country knew that they'd had a child together twenty-some years ago.

He let it go and turned back to Amalia, who was saying something about her father and his business plans and didn't notice Cameron slip away toward the bar.

"Whiskey sour, please." Cameron nodded at the bar tender, who went about filling his order, and then turned to his mother and her friend. "Hey, Mom. Jason, thought we'd see you here tonight."

The older man shrugged wearily. It was clear that he'd accepted defeat when it came to Carly dragging him out to her parties and had decided a long time ago to simply make the best of it and try like hell to slip out early.

"Jason, Elizabeth, sorry, I'm back," came a voice from behind them, and Cameron turned to find a short, dark-haired woman with a vodka tonic in one hand and a cell phone in the other standing before them. She had long hair piled on her head in curls, and about the worst complexion he'd ever seen. Years of drinking, smoking, and too little SPF were probably responsible.

"Another call about my boat," Sam said, slipping her phone into her purse. "Anyway, Elizabeth, you were talking about that cover story on…Oh, my God."

Her jaw dropped as she looked up at Cameron, and the young man grimaced. "Cameron Webber, is that you?"

"It is," Elizabeth said, smiling up at her son. "Cam, you remember Sam."

"I remember," he replied gruffly. She was Molly and Kristina's sister, of course, not that either girl cared much for her. Sam joined their family when she was twenty-six and when the girls were very little, and she played the part of doting sister for about a year before she got wrapped up in her own world once again. After she finally left town, she sailed around the world on her boat and barely remembered to drop in once every year or so to have dinner with Alexis and the girls.

As soon as Molly and Kristina grew older and were able to drive and have after-school commitments, they made sure to schedule a lot of events for the week that Sam would likely drop by during, just so they could inform their mother that not having dinner together as a family was out of their hands. Sam hadn't been any kind of a sister to Molly or Kristina, and they weren't too keen on being reminded that she was still a part of their family.

"He's gotten so _tall_," Sam cooed, still looking up at him in awe. "Oh, it's been years since I've seen him. Oh, what happened to your nose? How'd you do that?"

She looked as if she was going to reach for the bandage that covered his nose (fucking Jake, stupid melodramatic asshat) and Cameron pointedly leaned away from her, earning a horrified glare from his mother.

But he didn't care.

He'd talked to Jake, he'd learned everything he needed to know about the despicable woman in front of him. He had very, very vague memories of what she'd done, of how one day in the park he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. He'd had nightmares about that for a couple of years but had never been able to explain them. They faded eventually, but when Jake told him about what he'd uncovered from Spinelli's files (again, thanks to Molly), that Sam had hired two gunmen to hold the three of them up at the park just to scare Elizabeth away from Jason, those horrible nightmares finally made sense.

He also knew that Sam had watched Jake get kidnapped by a mentally unhinged woman that might very well have dumped him in a lake when she remembered that he wasn't the daughter she lost tragically in a fire, and she had said nothing. Those offenses never came out onto the public record and Sam was never held responsible. Cameron had no idea why the fucking hell Jason didn't make Sam pay for what she did, but he hoped for her sake that Jake didn't see that she was back in Port Charles tonight, because he definitely would.

"Don't touch me."

"Cameron," Elizabeth scolded, glancing apologetically at Sam. "Is that any way to talk to her? Sam was just being nice."

"Excuse me?" He looked down at her, and then at the other woman, completely baffled. He didn't know enough about Sam's relationship with the people in this town outside of her family, but it seemed as if his mother was…actually standing up for this woman. "Are you serious?"

"Sam was just being nice," Elizabeth maintained, looking at him sternly. "There's no need to be rude."

Cameron snapped his mouth shut and just stared at her for a long moment before abruptly snatching up his drink so fast that he sloshed a little on his hand. "Mom, in order to avoid saying anything else that'll upset you, I'm going over there."

He glared pointedly at Sam, the message clear, and stalked back to his friends. Jake had his back toward his parents now, thank God, and hadn't noticed the interloper, and Cameron hoped it stayed that way. He insinuated himself between his little brother and Kristina and absently wiped away the whiskey on his fingers. Johnny and Nadine had arrived and Amalia was off talking to them, so Jake was discussing something with Spencer and Cameron only half-listened in, wondering what the hell would ever prompt his mother to speak in favor of that awful woman that had hurt their family so many times and in so many ways.

"And we're doing even better than forecasted," Jake was saying as Spencer nodded. "I got the figures early this week and worked on the projections, and we'll have easily tripled our initial investment by next month, which is amazing. I can send the figures and my calculations over to you if you want, but your accountant should already have gotten the preliminary report Monday."

"Email the projections to me now," Spencer urged, pulling out his phone. "It's not like we're doing anything, or expected to do anything."

"Oh, my God, you guys, seriously," Molly broke in. "Do we have to talk business? Moratorium on all business talk for the next hour, okay? It's not going to kill you."

The two shut their mouths, acquiescing, and stared at each other and then her for a long time.

"…Um, what do you want to talk about?"

Cameron chuckled when Molly threw her hands up in the air. "Oh, forget it, go back to talking about business. You two have no lives."

"She's just mad because we haven't told her she looks nice," Jake winked at his brother, reverting back to his basic axiom when dealing with women: that all they wanted was constant complimenting. "Moll, I'm absolutely blinded by your beauty, so I'll need your full name and phone number for insurance purposes."

She shot him a disgusted look as Cameron laughed. "Has that line ever worked for you?"

"Actually, yes," Jake beamed. "Several times."

"I was there," Morgan piped up, taking a thoughtful sip of his scotch. "And, trust me, I was just as surprised as you are. Hey, remember that time at my frat mixer, that one girl asked if you had the time and you asked her if she had the energy?"

Jake glared at him sourly. "Yes. And she threw her drink in my face. That's not a success story at all."

"I know," his friend shrugged, grinning as Molly and Kristina laughed. "I just like remembering it."

"To be fair, I was completely drunk," Jake added, hoping to soften the blow.

"To be fair," Morgan interjected again, earning a dark look, "he was completely drunk almost all through college."

"Whatever," he scoffed, discreetly elbowing his friend, pleased when Morgan got a little bit of scotch sloshed onto his hand. "I'm going to go get another beer. Moll, Kay, want anything?"

"More champagne."

He nodded and turned toward the bar, smiling and shaking hands with various acquaintances as he made his way through the crowd. Unlike Jason and Sonny, he didn't mind these kinds of functions at all. He was more like Jax in that respect: mingling and hob-nob-ing with a bunch of people that wanted to congratulate him on random things was no hardship for him. He rather enjoyed it.

"Actually, I'll have the expansion plan finalized and ready to present at the meeting by the end of the month," he was telling one of the junior board members at ELQ that had rushed up to say hello and make small talk. "Something to look forward to. If you'll excuse me."

As he turned, he bumped into a petite woman with dark hair. She nearly fell so he reached out immediately to steady her and an apology was on the tip of his tongue until Jake realized who she was.

"Watch it," she said, not unkindly, and handed her half-finished drink to Jason so that she could shake her hand dry. "Oh, my God, Jake Webber, look at you!"

He didn't bother correcting her about his name and instead yanked his hands away from her, his eyes flashing. "…I didn't realize you were back in town again."

"Yup, I'm back," Sam smiled proudly, her smile faltering only when she caught sight of the healing cut on his cheek (stupid Cameron, sanctimonious fucktard), and she reached out. "Jesus, what happened to you? What is it with all the boys in this town looking beat up?"

Quick as a flash, Jake grabbed her wrist before she could touch him and glowered down at him. Sam blinked and tugged at her arm as Elizabeth looked up at him, horrified. "Do _not_ touch me."

Her mouth opened and shut a couple times before Sam spoke. "Jake, I don't know what I did wrong, but-"

He let her go and Sam pulled her arm back to her chest, rubbing her wrist even though he hadn't even been holding her that tightly. "I don't want to see your face, do you understand?" he told her, each word terse and clipped. "I want you to turn around and get the hell out of his room, and stay the fuck out of my sight while you're in town. And I _especially_ do not want you coming anywhere near my mother. You stay the hell away from her, you understand? Play your mind games elsewhere, because I'll make _sure_ that you don't mess with her head any more than you already-"

"Jake!" Elizabeth wasn't having any of this, and was wondering in the back of her mind just what in the world was wrong with her boys tonight; even the one that was normally nice to everyone was being an absolute bear. "That's enough! What do you think you're doing?"

Stunned, Jake turned and looked at her, then Jason, who was shifting his weight awkwardly, then back at the interloper. "But – I – that's _Sam,_" he finally said, sounding stupid even to his own ears. "Sam _McCall_."

"I know exactly who she is," his mother said, her eyes flashing as Sam tipped her chin up, feeling vindicated. "And I don't know what's wrong with you, but you owe her an apology. Jake, I don't care who you think you are, you cannot go up to people and threaten them in public and-"

"That's _Sam McCall_," he repeated, still trying to sort this out. He knew he sounded like a child, but it didn't really matter. "You remember her, don't you? I know she only comes by once every couple of years for a day or two, but you have to remember who she is and what she did – you have to!"

Elizabeth lifted her chin a notch. "Whatever happened between me and Sam is in the past. And it's between _me_ and _her _and has nothing to do with you or your brother. And you know she was dating your – Lucky when you boys were little. Whatever happened, happened a long time ago and Sam apologized and the best thing to do is just move on from it. Jason and I moved on a long time ago, and so did Sam and Lucky, and now-"

Jake couldn't help it: he started laughing. He started laughing, right there at the bar, in full view of everyone, and a couple people actually turned around to see what was so funny. "I don't believe this. I just…don't fucking believe this."

Elizabeth was not amused. "Jacob Martin – Jacob Morgan, you-"

"You know what, Mom?" He held up his hands and took a step back, shaking his head. "Fine. That's just fine. This is fine. If you and Jason want to forget everything she did, that's fine. And you're right, it's none of my business."

He turned on Sam, his eyes dark and glowing, and the older woman actually took a step back, closer to Jason, as if he'd protect her in some strange way although it was clear even to Jake that Jason still couldn't stand the woman.

"It's none of my business that she let me get kidnapped from the park, that she scared the shit out of my brother that day and let everyone say that you were suffering from post-partum depression and did it to me yourself."

Elizabeth swallowed and tried to interject, but Jake wasn't done.

"And it's none of my business that she hired armed men to hold the three of us up in the park and traumatized my brother so badly that he dreamt about that day for years."

He held the empty beer bottle in his hand so tightly that Elizabeth could have sworn she heard the glass crack as he glared at all of them.

"If you want to be her new best friend, Mother, that's absolutely fucking fine with me," he said with an exaggerated shrug before he turned on Sam again. "But remember this. You're no friend of mine. I know exactly what you are and I will never understand what made my father so weak that he didn't snap your neck twenty years ago."

Sam and Elizabeth gawked at him as Jake eased closer. "And remember this. I'm nowhere near as weak as he is, so you watch your step. If you so much as look at me cross-eyed, I might decide that I don't you to be living any longer. So, yeah, run to your cop boyfriend and tell him that…and in the meantime? Sleep with an eye open, bitch. Because I'm all grown up now, and I make people like you disappear every fucking day. It really would have been in your best interest to keep Maureen O'Hara from being found, or to have ordered those men to shoot me when you had the chance. Big mistake on your part."

He turned on his heel, not even noticing that Elizabeth had turned as white as a sheet (though if he had, he would have also noticed that Jason didn't look one bit surprised at what came out of his mouth) and stalked away from the bar without even bothering with the champagne Molly wanted.

It was his full intention to just march out of the door and get the hell out of there (fuck saying goodnight to Carly and Jax, he was in no mood) when, in his haste to get out, he ran directly into another person from his parents' past.

"Whoa." A pair of strong arms steadied him quickly, and Jake found himself looking at someone from the Davis family that he saw far more regularly than the prodigal daughter. "Watch where you're going, son – Oh."

Jake saw the exact moment that Ric Lansing realized who he was, most likely from his picture, because the last time he'd seen the man was at Molly's birthday party shortly before the truth about Jason and Elizabeth came out.

Ric lived in the city and had a life and career there, and rarely made it back to Port Charles except for important moments in Molly and Kristina's lives. Jake didn't blame him one bit.

"Mister Lansing." He stuck out his hand, forcing himself to cool down, and even managed to flash the man a pleasant smile. This was just too much. Honestly. And to make it worse, everyone knew that even after their disastrous marriage(s), Ric still held a torch for Elizabeth and this was the first time the two of them were coming face to face after Ric learned that Jake was actually the son of his arch-nemesis instead of a harmless former officer.

This was going to be ridiculous.

But to his surprise, Ric just shook his hand and smiled back. "It's good to see you again," he said, sounding sincere enough. "I…I would have liked to have come and seen you after the, um, after your health scare, but I didn't know if that was such a good idea, but…I'm glad you're all right."

Jake nodded slowly, still shaking his hand. "Thank you. And you're right, it wouldn't have been a good idea, all things considered."

Ric glanced toward Jason, who was glowering at him from across the room, and managed a small, self-deprecating smirk. "Yeah, I can understand that."

Jake pulled his hand away and slipped it into his pocket. "So, I heard talk that you were coming back for a somewhat extended stay."

Ric nodded. "Cashing in my vacation days, but only because they're making me. I thought I'd come back and spend more time with the girls…see if that brother of yours is good enough for Molly."

Jake had to smile at that. "Well, as far as I know, he's never faked his own death, had a marriage of convenience, or killed anybody."

"And that already puts him miles ahead of most of the men in this town," Ric filled in right on time, and they shared a grin.

"Pretty much." Jake tilted his head to the side and studied him assessingly. "…Any chance that you're coming back to the DA's office? We're getting pretty sick of Scott Baldwin."

Ric laughed at that and shook his head. "It's a tempting offer, but, no. I'll be going back to the firm in about a month."

"Shame." Jake stuck out his hand again and this time, Ric pumped it warmly. "…I would have loved the opportunity to have worked with you, Mister Lansing."

That earned him a wide, knowing smile and Ric nodded once. "Oh, I'm sure you'd have made it fun, Morgan." Jake's new last name was said softly, as if Ric was trying it out, testing it, finding that, for once, it didn't grate as badly as it normally did. "Guess we'll never know what we missed out on."

Jake smiled and moved past him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"You've got to get me out of here. Now."

She had appeared in front of him out of nowhere, and now Amalia was gripping his hand tighter than she ever had before, and the look in her pale blue eyes almost scared him.

Jake had only to glance at her father to know what the problem was. Johnny Zacchara stood across the room, arms folded over his chest, looking absolutely furious and glaring at anyone that came within a three foot radius. Nadine stood in front of him, one arm looped through his, the other patting his arms as she talked to him, the only woman that could pull him out of his moods when he'd really gone and worked himself up.

They hadn't been spotted yet and Jake squeezed Amalia's hand back and squeezed through the crowd. "Come on. Let's go."

They were able to duck out and headed straight to the door to the underground parking lot where Jake was parked. Amalia walked along in step with him, her strides long and hard, her eyes looking straight ahead, and Jake knew things were far from all right.

He looked around, making sure they'd be out of sight, and pulled her into a nook in the garage where the valets and cameras wouldn't spot them.

"Hey." He grasped her chin and tilted it back, forcing her to look up at him. "What happened?"

"Same thing," she said with a disbelieving laugh. "I just can't deal with my father right now."

Jake's hand found her hip under the black wrap she wore. "What did he say?"

Amalia shook her head, and he could see tears in her eyes. "Same thing. He's still pushing me to get married. It's worse now than ever before. He's set on seeing me get married or at the very least, engaged, before the year's over."

They had no way of knowing, of course, that it wasn't one single, narrow thought planted in Johnny's head that made him so focused on his desire to see his only child's future secured. Jake and Amalia had no way of knowing that this had been in the works for a very long time, and that Johnny's health was slowly becoming a cause of greater and greater concern. His blood pressure had always been high, ever since he was a teenager, and heart disease and cardiac problems ran in his family. They had no way of knowing, for all their sources and intelligence-recovery teams, that Johnny's heart just wasn't what it used to be, and that the real reason that Nadine had dropped down to being a part-time nurse and would soon be quitting altogether was because she wanted to be able to stay home more with him.

His condition wasn't life-threatening, thankfully, and was controlled through careful diet and exercise, but it had been a tremendous eye-opener for both Johnny and Nadine, both of whom, for most of their lives, found themselves thrown into situations they never would have imagined. After all, neither one had ever imagined that they'd marry each other and have a baby within a few months of that day, but they'd been together for almost thirty years after that. Johnny's current health concerns led them both to think about how lucky they'd been in life so far, and how they needed to make sure certain things were done and certain things were taken care of so that what was left of their lives would be secure.

And that was why Johnny Zacchara was so keen on seeing his daughter married to a capable man used to this way of life. He was thinking not only of her life, but his own, and he didn't want his daughter to pay the price if something happened to him and her future wasn't settled at the time. He didn't want mob wars, he didn't want power vacuums, and he didn't want her birthright taken from her. He wanted her settled in the house of a successful man in their line of work, ready to inherit everything he had whenever and however he met his end.

But like any similarly conservative father, he didn't share these concerns with his daughter. Instead, all Amalia got from it was that her father was being entirely unreasonable and wanted her out of his house at whatever cost.

Jake pulled her close and her chin rested on his shoulder, and it was only then that Amalia started to cry. She hadn't planned on it, hadn't even counted on it, but the moment his arms closed around her, strong and safe and full of reassurance, the tears just came and wouldn't stop.

Jake frowned and held her tightly, running a hand through her hair. It was longer now, tumbling just a couple inches past her shoulders. "Hey, hey. Everything's going to be okay. I promise."

For the first time, she was shaking her head, refusing the comfort he offered her. "You can't say that. You have absolutely no way of being sure of that."

"I _can_ say that," he insisted, rocking her just slightly in his arms. "I can, Lia. Look, it's you and your dad. I know you two. He loves you more than anything, and he's a reasonable man, he really is. Everything _will_ be okay."

She was barely paying attention, and Amalia shook her head. "You don't understand. I can't do this anymore. I can't. I've been fighting him on this for years. _Years_, Jake, and he's never let up. He's only gained steam. And I can't…I can't do this anymore."

He had no way of knowing what she was referring to specifically, but whatever it was, it gripped him with fierce panic and he held on to her even tighter, shaking her a little.

"Listen to me," he said, stunned by the urgency in his own voice. "Listen, I'll fix it, okay? I promise you, I'll fix it."

She pulled back and looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, Jake was taken aback by what he saw in Amalia's expressive eyes. Her gaze was heavy lidded, defeated, exhausted, and grim.

Finally, she shook her head slowly. "…I don't think you'll be able to."

Not knowing what else to do, Jake gripped her arms and yanked her to him, crushing his lips to hers. The embrace held his frustration, her desolation, his possessive nature, her weary defeat, his promise, and her lingering hope.

"I'll fix it," he repeated, resting his forehead against hers. "I promise you, I'll fix it. I will. Just give me some time, okay? I'll fix it."

Amalia nodded, trying to hide that she didn't believe him, and he took both of her hands and pulled her out into the open.

"You wanna drive?"

She shook her head as the valet, already recognizing Jake, ran to get his car. "Not tonight."

A troubled frown touched his lips but he kept quiet. Amalia always wanted to drive whenever they went out together – which was rare, because they wanted to stay off the radar as a couple – and she loved his car. He figured it was because his car was the same make and model as her father's favorite car, and Johnny never let her drive that car because it was, as he put it, his Midlife Crisis car and he was going to enjoy it solo, thank you very much. Normally, whenever they headed out together, her hand was reaching into his pocket for the keys before even his was.

The black Tesla came to a perfect stop in front of them and the valet hopped out and trotted forward. "Your car, Mister Morgan."

"Thanks." He didn't even notice how much he tipped the man, just pulled a couple bills from his clip and opened the door for Amalia. She got in quietly and he went around to the other side, slipping in and fastening his belt.

"Just drop me off at 235."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

Jake couldn't help but look at his house as he pulled up in front of hers. 234 was dark tonight, of course. Elizabeth was still at the MetroCourt bash, no doubt sharing apple martinis with the woman that terrorized both of her sons. If his mood wasn't significantly improved in about an hour, he'd place a call to Chase and order him to off the cunt, just because.

His mother would be scandalized for obvious reasons, but that was starting to matter less and less. In fact, he was more worried about Molly and Kay's reaction to it, if he went through with it.

He killed the engine and got out, intending to go around and open the door for Amalia, but she was already getting out. She hit the sidewalk as he came up and let herself in through the gate. He stood there and watched as she took a couple steps toward the house, staring up at it, unable to go farther, and he broke the silence and called out to her.

"Li. Come home with me instead."

Amalia turned around slowly and he saw how truly listless her eyes were. She couldn't bring herself to enter the house that was more hers now than anyone else's, what with her parents relocating almost exclusively to Crimson Pointe, and finally, after staring at him for a long moment, Amalia walked back.

He took her hand in his and pulled her back to the car, making sure she was settled before he hurried around to the other side. This time when he pulled away from the curb, he drove faster, harder, more recklessly than before, eager to get her away from her childhood home and himself away from the Metrocourt in downtown Port Charles and back home, back to a safe, neutral place where no one else was allowed to encroach.

Morgan Manor stood tall and deathly still against the inky summer night sky, and Jake punched the code on the keypad just under his GPS and the iron-wrought and doubly reinforced gates slid open easily. He left the car right in front of the steps leading up to the grand porch and helped her out, pulling her up the steps and practically kicking in the door when his key stuck.

There were a couple staff members lingering but they didn't see any of them. Jake held Amalia's hand securely in his the whole time, unable to let her pull away, and tossed her pretty pashmina shawl on the armchair in the foyer. Somehow, they managed to make their way up to the second floor, and Amalia resisted when he made to pull her into his bedroom.

Jake remembered her aversion to the room at the last minute and nudged her into the guest bedroom they shared, kicking the door shut more forcefully than was needed. His shoes were kicked off, hers were stepped out of, his designer suit jacket fell to the floor in a wrinkled heap, and his clever fingers made quick work of the long zipper along her backside.

He dove onto her, his body covering hers before her back could even hit the sheets, and lost the rest of his clothes quickly. Her dress was skimmed off her body and flung aside, her undergarments disposed just as fast. Jake kept her close to him for as long as he could, elicited every last cry, moan, whisper, and breath from her that he could because it made the moment last just that much longer.

He had no way of knowing how close he came to being told that it was over, that they were done, but he'd sensed it already and seen the quiet desperation in her eyes. So he stayed with her in that moment for as long as he could, prolonging it, making it better for her, refusing to let it end. He'd collected quite a stockpile of ways to please her and didn't hold anything back, relentless in his unnamed, misunderstood quest, unable to concentrate on anything but the feeling of her underneath him, the knowledge that she was still with him.

After what seemed like hours later, he awoke to feel a slight shiver of movement against his side and looked over to see that Amalia was on her side, her back toward him. This confused Jake because he was fairly certain that he'd fallen on top of her when they were finally too exhausted to move anymore, and he'd fallen asleep with his head in the warm cavern of her neck.

But Amalia was on her side now, her back bared toward him, and he could see her shoulders shaking. She kept her tears quiet but he still heard her sniffle in the darkness and, unable to stand it any longer, reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, pulled her close against his chest even though a part of him knew that maybe she didn't want him to.

"I'll fix this, if you'll give me a little more time," he promised, the words sounding more like a plea as she stifled her sobs, having been caught. "Please, Li. Just…give me time to get my shit together."


	72. Those of You Who Tried

**Mean | 71**

For those of you who tried, but didn't make it,  
Settle down- it's never what you think.  
The summit doesn't differ from the deep, dark valley,  
And the valley doesn't differ from the kitchen sink.

-- "This Is Not A Test," She & Him

**.: MetroCourt Hotel, Cecily's Suite :.**

Cecily swirled her pakora in tamarind relish and took a bite as Anna finished pouring out the soda. They'd been in a mood for Indian food when they'd thrown together plans to hang out tonight, and _Curry in a Hurry_ was the only place in town that actually served anything decent.

"So? Have you talked to him since?"

Amalia shook her head and broke her naan into pieces, her gaze pointedly downcast. "I haven't even seen my father since, honestly. He's at the house in Crimson Pointe with Mom and I've been staying in town. I haven't called him, haven't seen him, haven't emailed him, or vice versa. We'll see what happens. We'll see how long it takes him to forget this and talk to me again."

"You disappeared real quick after the party, though," Molly pointed out. "During the party, actually, right? I was with my dad and he mentioned that he saw you and Jake slip out."

She nodded. "Yeah. I just had to get out of there."

"Where'd you go?" Anna asked, finally settling down with her food.

"I told him to take me back home, but we got there and I just didn't feel like going in," Amalia admitted. "So he took me back to his place."

A slow smile spread across Anna's face. "And you totally let him put it to you. Hey, hey," she added, holding her hands up when Amalia shot her a bland look. "There ain't nothing wrong with that."

She shrugged and poked at a piece of chicken. "I just…ended up spending the night with him. It was…"

Cecily was watching her carefully. "It was what?"

"I almost broke up with him." Amalia lifted her chin and looked at them directly. "Did I tell you that? I almost broke up with him last night, just because. I can't – I can't do this anymore. I don't know how much longer I can keep it up. It feels like my father's pulling me in one direction and Jake's pulling me in another and I can't…I can't deal with this."

Anna's expression was sober now. "What stopped you from breaking up with him?"

"I don't know," she admitted weakly. "I might still tell him that, I just…he kept saying he'd fix it."

"Fix it, how?" Molly wanted to know. "Did he give any specifics?"

Amalia shook her head. "No. He just kept promising me that he would fix it if I gave him time to get things together."

"What kind of things?" Cecily scoffed, not noticing that Molly had grown suspiciously silent all of a sudden. "That's dumb. What kind of things does he have to get together? All he has to do is pop the damn question and move you on in. You practically live there, anyway."

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, that's all he said. Well, _after…_I was upset and he just put his arm around me and said he needed some time to get it all together."

"Upset?"

"Fine, I was a mess," she replied, rolling her eyes. "But that's what he said. He said it all night, too, kept whispering it, kept making that promise over and over. I…I don't really believe him. He's been able to do so much, but he can't fix this. Even if he wants to, he just can't."

"Trust him," Molly said softly. "I know you already do, more than anyone, but just trust him this time, too. Just give him what he's asking for. He's not taking this lightly, Li. You know him. If he said something like that, then I bet he's already got a plan to fix it."

Amalia was still poking at her food. "…I just don't know how long I can keep this up."

"Well, I don't really know what else can be said about this situation," Anna piped up, gesturing grandly, "except that I totally fucking called it, bitches."

As always, she had a way of saying the most unexpected things at the most unexpected times, and all the girls gaped at her.

"Um…" Molly looked around the group. "Anna, Eye-Dee-Kay what the hell you're talking about."

"I totally called it," she repeated, grinning and bouncing up and down in her seat a little. "Remember? When we were at Jake's doing shots? I totally called it, all the way back then!"

Comprehension was slowly dawning and Cecily groaned. "Oh, God…"

"I told you," Anna added, jabbing a finger at a stunned Amalia, who was too surprised by this twist to remember her sullen mood. "I told you that if I was writing this story of you and Jake, I'd make it so that your dad wouldn't let up about you getting married, and you'd be all resigned to your fate or whatever, and Jake would take you home and put it to you just when you were thinking about ending it for good, and he'd think he still had a chance and you'd think it was the last time and I _totally fucking called it, bitches._"

They were all staring at her surprise as Anna puffed out her chest and looked at them triumphantly. "And also?" She arched a brow at Amalia, who was still trying to come to grips with all this. "I'd totally get some blood work done. You remember what I said about the surprise baby, yeah?"

"Oh, my God," Cecily groused, taking a pillow and smacking her best friend in the face with it just as she reached for her plate. Anna let out a squawk and flicked rice at her. "Anna, just shut up."

She snatched her pillow back from Anna and reached out as quick as she could, covering the brunette's ears as she looked across their spread at Amalia, who was starting to smile, which had been Anna's goal all along.

"Seriously, though, it's best to get the test done, anyway." Cecily shrugged as her friend fought back, struggling against the hold. "Anna's freaky like that."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Oceanview Towers :.**

Morgan passed Cameron a glass of whiskey and handed Jake his scotch before settling down with his own drink. About a week or two had passed since the last time he'd seen his friends at his parents' hotel celebration, and he was glad that he could take some time off tonight. His campaign for Mayor was in full swing but even so, he'd insisted that his handlers let him off the hook so he could actually rest and recuperate from their rigorous schedule.

"You keep looking at your watch," he noted, watching Jake fidget on the couch. "Something up?"

He shook his head. "…I just can't stay that late tonight. I've got an early meeting tomorrow."

"You just came from a meeting," Cameron frowned.

Jake nodded. "Yup. And I have one tomorrow morning and then another in the afternoon, and hopefully one later at night if I can squeeze it in, because the day after that's a busy one and I don't want to put it off until then if I can help it."

Cameron stared at him for a moment and then crossed his long legs the other way, settling down further in his chair. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you…how are you handling all this?"

"Handling all what?"

"The business and ELQ, everything," he explained. "It all kind of fell on you at the same time. I mean, you took the business, and the next thing we know, Edward's making you the CEO…It's a lot for a guy to handle."

"I'm doing okay," Jake replied slowly. "Some days are worse than others, but, I mean, I know I have certain things that need to get done so I just make sure I get them done. Chase and Penn help out a lot with the business – I don't know if I'd be able to stay on top of everything if they weren't around. But, yeah, it's not that bad. I've got a lot of irons in the fire right now, and the business is expanding and I'm moving forward with plans for ELQ, too, so it's a lot right now, but things will calm down."

Cameron let out a bark of laughter at that. "And what are you going to do when it calms down? You wouldn't know what to do with yourself."

"Oh, come on," Morgan smirked, earning a look of warning from Jake. "You _know_ what he's going to do."

Cameron frowned at this and looked at his brother, then back at Morgan, then back at his brother until it dawned on him. "You don't mean…"

Morgan nodded proudly, grinning when Jake let out a huff. "Oh, yeah."

"Really." Cameron was grinning, too, and now turned on his brother. "This is the first I'm hearing about this. When do you plan to ask her?"

"I'm not discussing this," Jake said firmly, holding up a finger in warning at both of them. "And especially not with you idiots."

"You _have_ to tell us now," his brother insisted. "Are you seriously going to do it?"

After a pause so long that they wondered whether Jake was even going to answer at all, he finally nodded. "Yeah."

Cameron broke out into a bright smile. "…That's really good to hear."

"Any idea when?" Morgan asked. He'd known about this, had seen the signs for a very long time, but he wanted a direct answer. "Or how, even?"

"Not for a while," Jake murmured, swirling his scotch in his glass. "I can't do it right now, that's for sure. Things aren't ready. As soon as I get everything together, that's when I'll do it."

"Her father's been after her to get married," his brother pointed out. "Maybe the sooner you ask, the better. She might not be available for long."

It was a constant worry, and Jake nodded wearily. "I know. But…I think I can handle it. As long as things stay the way they are for just a little while longer, I can make this work. And if John really gets serious about it…well…I guess I'll have to talk to him."

"Which he doesn't want to do," Morgan explained for Cameron's benefit, "because that's not the way it's done in this world. The father's only approached for a formal proposal, not a request for more time or a request to keep his daughter available."

"Got it," Cameron nodded. It all sounded a little strange to him – what was wrong with just getting down on one knee and asking? – but he went with it, sure that this was just one of many things that he didn't understand about his brother's world. "Just…don't wait too long, Jake. Don't do that to her or yourself."

"I don't plan to," he replied firmly, closing both hands around his glass. He lifted his gaze toward them and his eyes were clear and bright with purpose. "We've waited too long already, all of us, for everything to fall into place. And we're so close, I can feel it. I just need a little more time. With just a little more time, I can make it. And everything will be set."

He squared his shoulder, drawing himself up to his full height even in his seated position. "And at any rate, I have no intention of doing to Amalia what Jason did to Mom."

Cameron blinked. "Meaning…?"

"I refuse to string her along indefinitely," he said lightly. "I know what I have to do in order to be in a place where I can make this feasible for both of us. I'm not going to string her along with empty promises that never pan out. I asked her for more time, she agreed, and I'm not wasting a second."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Crimson Manor :.**

"Daddy."

Johnny looked up from the paperwork on his desk and saw his daughter standing at the door to his office. It was after dinner and entirely dark outside, and even his massive office was illuminated only by the lamps on either side of the window.

"Amalia." His brows furrowed. "I didn't know you were coming tonight. Why didn't you come for dinner?"

She shook her head and moved into the room, shutting the door behind her. "I came because I have to talk to you."

He put his pen down and folded his hands, watching her approach. She didn't get too close and instead came to a stop a couple of paces away from his desk. "About what?"

Their recent spat wasn't an all too distant memory, and Johnny knew exactly what was pressing down on her. It was the same matter that was pressing down on him, but he knew he couldn't afford to put it off any longer. Neither one of them could. The future of the Zacchara line depended on this, and he would not gamble with his daughter's future the way Anthony gambled with his children's futures.

"We both know what."

He allowed this and leaned back in his chair, settling his arms on the rest. "You know, I spoke to Renato the other day. It seems that Bruno would still like to see you again, despite your performance the last time they were guests at this house."

Amalia closed her eyes at the mention of Renato Adessi and his son, Hair Product Guy, both of whom were already well informed on the status of her virtue.

"I don't want to marry Bruno."

Johnny let out a short breath. "He's easily the twentieth man you've rejected in the past two years alone. This has to stop, Amalia, I won't stand for it anymore. You know how important this is to the family, and I can't understand why you're being so selfish-"

She really did not want to hear that speech again. "Just not Bruno, all right?"

"Not Bruno," Johnny grumbled. "Not Bruno, not Alfonso, not Samuele, not Vincente, not this one, not that one, not anyone! What was wrong with any of those men? All good, strong, Italian boys, born into this life, all of them of age and willing to marry you. And you wouldn't have any of them."

"And doesn't that tell you something?" she ground out, forcing her voice not to waver. "Anything?"

Johnny's lips tightened into a thin red line and he and Amalia simply stared at each other for a long moment. He knew this was a stalemate; neither one of them would get anywhere if they continued down this road that they'd traveled so many times in the past.

"What did you come to talk to me about?"

"I have a proposition for you." It felt strange, making a deal with her father in order to get what she wanted, what she needed, but she had to do it. He'd been the most wonderful, loving, supportive father all her life, and this was the first time that she'd seen the ruthless, focused, intimidating side of him rear its ugly head. She had to deal however she could.

"Go ahead."

She squared her shoulders and looked at him directly. "Hold off on your demand for me to get married for a year."

He arched a brow at her, his disbelief clear. "A year."

"One year from today," Amalia repeated. "In that time, don't mention me getting married. Don't introduce me to any men. Deflect any that come calling after me. And on this day next year, I'll…I'll marry whoever you think is suitable promptly afterwards. As long as I have no serious objection."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Define serious objection."

"As long as he's not abusive or a serial, habitual, unreformed womanizer," she said softly.

Her father snorted. "I'd never let anyone like that marry you, anyway."

Her bland look let him know that she didn't believe him, but Amalia didn't dwell on it. "One year. Give me one year not to have to deal with this."

"…And at the end of that year, you'll seriously consider marrying the next suitable man I find for you," he challenged, looking at her sternly.

Amalia swallowed roughly and nodded. "I swear it."

Johnny sat back in his chair, a dark frown twisting his lips, and thought about it for a long moment before he finally looked back at her. "I don't suppose you'd want the lawyers in here to draw up the contract…"

She shook her head as a small, relieved smile touched her lips at his reluctant joke. "No."

Her father tilted his chin up, his gaze still guarded. "Agreed."

"Thank you." She looked at him a moment longer and turned away, moving soundlessly over the thick carpet. Her hand was on the door and she'd pulled the door open and almost stepped out before her father's voice stopped her.

"Amalia."

She turned instantly, afraid for a moment that he'd renege on their deal when they'd made so much progress in just a few minutes. "Yes?"

His dark eyes gave absolutely nothing away. "Just _who_ am I granting this extension to?"

Her lips parted in surprise, and Johnny's expression grew smug. When she spoke, the word was a mere whisper, barely above a breath.

"Me."

He held her gaze for a long moment before nodding and turning back to his work. She let out a short breath and practically fled the office, shutting the door behind her, as her father picked up his pen again, muttering under his breath.

"Right."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

"Never in my life did I think I'd ever see a _Corinthos for Mayor_ sign on every lawn on Harborview Road."

Jake smirked as Sonny joined their group, taking a seat between Michael, who had transferred to the local branch of Jax Enterprises for the week, and Cameron. Morgan was seated across from him, next to Mal, and he and Spencer moved over to make room for Jason.

It was a late summer night that found them all at the old bar. Morgan had been working all day and finally escaped his handlers, Cameron had just gotten off of work after a late case, Spencer was in town for a meeting with Jake that had just wrapped up, and Mal and Michael just plain missed spending time with their friends, who they hadn't been able to see in a couple days.

Sonny and Jason, oddly enough, had not arrived at the bar together. They were spending less time together these days. Jason was involved with his few legitimate interests in town that now formed the majority of his business obligations, and with Elizabeth. Sonny, on the other hand, was cultivating a few illegal ventures of his own and was having a devil of a time getting things done like he used to since Jake ran the biggest racket in their area.

"It's something, isn't it?" Jake grinned, picking up the newspaper that someone had left on the next table. "He'll be Mayor before we know it."

"Just remember to actually show up and vote that day, asshole," Morgan retorted. "I don't want to hear any of your bullshit about being stuck in meetings or having to go out of town or anything."

"Not to worry," he assured him, smiling up at a hostess when she dropped off his next beer. "I've already voted for you…several hundred times."

"Jake!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he laughed, sharing an exasperated look with Jason. "Jesus."

"Speaking of public office…" Mal shot his old friend a confused look. "Jake, I heard talk that you were on the historical society in town? I know it's not an office, technically, but it's a public committee, and…"

He shrugged. "Yeah, Grandfather got me on it. I'm on the Board of Education, too, last time I checked. I don't really do much, just send a proxy. I'm too busy for that shit, but damn, if it doesn't look good on my Wikipedia page."

Cameron laughed at that. "Well, at least you still show up to the hospital board meetings."

"Spence makes me," Jake grimaced. "Overachiever."

The Prince let out a laugh at that. "I only made you show up personally twice – and both times, only because the two of us needed alibis. It was in our best interest to show up there together."

It still rankled with Jason, how easy it was for the boys to talk about things like that, things that he and Sonny kept quiet and under the table. They didn't even mention the need for alibis to Carly or Courtney back during their marriages; that sort of thing was just not discussed, and here were the boys, being so cavalier about it. Christ, Cameron was even _laughing_ at the mention that his brother and friend were involved in something questionable enough that they'd need others to vouch for their presence at the time it happened.

"Oh, would you look at this…" Jake had the paper open to the front page and was holding it up, hidden from view behind it. "It looks like some guy named Bruno Adessi was taken into federal custody this morning on suspicion of racketeering and tax evasion. Hm."

"Bruno Adessi?" Morgan was frowning at that as Sonny and Jason shared confused looks. "Where have I heard that name before?"

"It's definitely familiar," Spencer agreed. "I can't help but feel that I've run into him a couple times in the course of my business dealings…"

"Wait a minute." Mal's eyes narrowed as he stared at Jake, who remained hidden behind the newspaper. "Oh, Jesus Christ. I know that name. Fuck, Jake."

"That's Renato Adessi's kid," Sonny said, squinting at Jason as he tried to remember. "Yeah, yeah, Renato Adessi. Weren't he and Johnny trying to get Bruno and Amalia married? Combine the families, the businesses, all that?"

"That sounds about right," Jake replied lightly, making Michael groan. He kept the paper up in front of his face. "Yup, definitely taken into federal custody. They're saying a trial's inevitable. The prosecution is already chomping at the bit, and the investigation is barely underway."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Cameron was sharing disbelieving looks with Michael. "Jake, you didn't."

He lowered his hand, his blue eyes twinkling as the corner of his mouth hooked up. He knew he needed more time for himself, but he wasn't above clearing away other roadblocks to facilitate that. "You know, it'd be pretty tacky for John to let Amalia get engaged to some asshole who's under federal investigation. Pretty damn tacky."

He yanked the paper back up as a shield just in time to save himself from the dozen or so stale peanuts that were launched at him from around the table.


	73. Here and Now

**Mean | 72**

We may never find our reason to shine  
But here and now this is our time  
And I may never find the meaning of life  
But for this moment I am fine.

-- "Street Corner Symphony," Rob Thomas

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom :.**

Elizabeth Webber was in a wonderful mood.

Her oldest son had just published a very notable study in a medical journal for which he received a commendation and so she was throwing him a party and all her friends were there, and Jason and Jake were sitting next to each other on the couch and actually talking pleasantly enough, so there were plenty of reasons to be happy.

She set the refilled pitcher of freshly made lemonade on the table in front of Cameron and Molly and sat back down, watching her other son and his father. Jake was dressed down today in his jeans and a t-shirt with an inverted volume design printed on it, and Elizabeth found that she much preferred him this way. Her boy looked handsome in suits and button-downs, of course, but it was just that when he was in jeans and a t-shirt…he looked so much like his father that it made her heart skip a beat.

Jason was saying something, actually punctuating the remark with a swivel of his wrist, and he rarely used hand gestures no matter what the occasion. Jake smirked, his legs crossed with one ankle resting on the other knee, and nodded along at the right places. Elizabeth had to wonder what it was they could possibly be talking about...

Patrick moved into her line of vision just then, trying to make a grab at the brownies she'd set out among the other refreshments. Robin noticed immediately and pulled him back so that he flopped onto the couch next to her once more, and Elizabeth heard her sternly tell her husband that he knew he had diabetes and had to control his diet, so she had no idea why he would sabotage that by eating a brownie when he'd already been nibbling on things the whole time they were there.

Anna and Cecily were occupying the same armchair, the one that all the kids tried to jump into whenever they came over to the Webber house because it was the most comfortable one. Cecily had something up on her phone and was showing it to Anna, who was pointing excitedly and nodding. Cameron and Molly were talking intimately about something and Amalia was sitting with Spencer and his wife, occasionally turning to talk to Carly, who was sitting by Jason. Jax was there, too, with Alexis, who had come to congratulate and support Cameron, and even Edward and Monica had dropped by for a bit earlier before Edward started feeling weak and wanted to go home to rest.

It was a quiet, relaxing get-together, just the sort she liked, and the only person missing from this picture was her ex-husband. But Lucky was working a case – or he was probably working a case; he rarely offered explanations – and would most likely stop by when he could, which was fine.

It did strike her, though, the demographic of the people in the room. The only adults represented were Robin, Patrick, Carly, Jax, Alexis, and Monica and Edward if she cheated and counted them. The rest were kids. And of the adults, she wasn't as close with Carly as she used to be while the boys were growing up, one a Corinthos and one safely a Webber, or so they thought. She was more Jason's friend, as always, and Elizabeth was back to just tolerating her presence, especially after Carly told Jake the truth about her part in the paternity mess.

As for Alexis, she wasn't friends with her, either. Alexis was just around more in the past year or so because Molly and Cameron were getting more serious, so she figured she'd better make an attempt just in case her daughter decided to settle down with him. Monica and Edward didn't really talk to her much; they both had their reservations about her since she was the one that insisted that Jason keep Jake a secret. They were so happy to have him in their lives now, and though they never said anything about it to her, Elizabeth knew that they each blamed her at least partly for not being able to know Jake before.

Of the adults, only Patrick and Robin were her friends, her real, true friends. Jax was wonderful, but there was a bit of an age difference between them, and they hadn't really gotten as close as they could have over the years for one reason or another. If Elizabeth had her way, Nikolas would be here. That is, if he hadn't vowed never to speak to her again. And Emily, rest her soul, would be alive and with her today.

And if things were back to the way they were a couple years ago, Johnny and Nadine would have been the first ones here. They were her closest friends once, even closer than her and the Drakes, mainly because the Zaccharas were what she and Jason should have been, and she loved them for it even though a small part of her always resented their happiness and the fact that they were allowed to make it work. But they'd lied to her and betrayed her trust, and she wasn't on speaking terms with either of them.

God, Jason and Jake were _still_ talking. What on earth could hold their attention for so long?

"See, I get what you're saying, I understand why you don't like the idea of government contracts. But in my experience, it's worked out very well."

She was leaning closer now and could hear what Jake was saying.

"I've taken on easily a dozen contracts straight from the federal government, probably more, and I've made more money than I can even talk about with a clear conscience." He shifted on the couch, facing his father more fully. "And aside from all that, I've made excellent contacts. It's very useful, knowing people that hold high positions in government, having them owe you favors, having them respect you and trust you for the work you've done. Really, I never understood why you and Sonny didn't work out a couple of your own. Good way to establish legitimacy, too. At least, somewhat."

Jason allowed this with a small nod. "Sonny and I took on two contracts with the government – local. New York state, not federal. It worked out okay, and we made good money, but we felt like we were working too closely with people. The guys in the State's Attorney's office, people like that. And when you're in our line of work, you can't afford to be watched that closely, like we felt we were. That's what gets you arrested or shot and tossed in the ocean."

Elizabeth bit her lip and drew back into her armchair, sure she didn't want to hear the rest of the conversation if they were discussing…that.

"Hey, Jake." Morgan had picked up the newspaper that was sitting on the table by Spencer and held it up to the front page. "Looks like your friend was acquitted of all charges. The investigation turned up nothing."

Elizabeth squinted at the headline and saw that it was about that Adessi man that was brought in by the FBI. "He's a friend of yours?"

Jake's eyes flicked to hers and he looked amused. "Oh, yeah, we have a lot in common."

Amalia shot him a dirty look from across the room.

"That's good, then," she said absently, trying to figure out what one said to a boy whose friend was in federal custody. "I, um, I'm glad things worked out for him."

Jake smiled warmly at her. "Mom, I was being sarcastic. I can't stand that guy. I hope the Feds drag him in again and this time, actually manage to hang on to him."

Elizabeth balked at that. "Oh. Okay."

"Let me see that." Jake took the paper from his friend and quickly skimmed through the front-page article. Jason read over his shoulder. "Oh, that's too bad. I was sure the G-Men would find something."

He folded up the paper and tossed it back to Morgan, who was smirking as Amalia looked on sagely. "Maybe they need a little help."

"Jake…" Elizabeth had no idea what she was planning to say next. _Don't you go framing one of your associates? Don't you dare get one of your friends slammed with criminal charges? Don't you go sticking your nose in the FBI's business?_

How exactly did one rebuke an adult child who was about to get involved in official government affairs?

She hoped Dr. Phil or Oprah would have the answer soon.

But Jake wasn't even listening to her, so it didn't really matter. Right now, he was muttering something to Morgan and pointedly ignoring Jason, who was studying him shrewdly, trying to get a read on his plans.

If there was one thing Jake was good at, it was making sure that neither of his parents knew of his plans.

"It's so weird not being able to say this stuff in front of you," Jake was saying, laughing at his best friend. "Man, why'd you have to leave the business, anyway? Who am I supposed to talk to now?"

"Talk to Lia," Morgan suggested, giving her a wicked sidelong look. "You'll just have to find some way to make sure she can't ever testify against you. I'm sure you'll figure something out."

Amalia shot him a bland look as Jake glared, and Cecily quickly changed the subject. "Was that a new car I noticed in the driveway when I came in? It's really nice – I took a look inside. It's the same kind Mal wants to get."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah, that's mine. Jason got it for me last week." She happened to look at her sons then. Cameron was listening to her calmly, though his eyes darted to Jason on the couch really quickly before he looked away and pretended his attention hadn't wavered. Jake's gaze had become heavy-lidded and he looked over at Amalia, who pursed her lips almost imperceptibly, as if she was mildly scolding him not to be rude.

"Jason just, uh, he thought it was time I got a new one. One that wouldn't break down so often."

"Good idea," Jake spoke up lightly, his expression perfectly pleasant as if he didn't remember the years he spent hounding his mother to let him buy her a new car, top of the line, or at least set her up with one of his cars and a driver so that he wouldn't have to worry about her getting stranded out on the road somewhere. "It was about time, too."

Cameron cleared his throat, arching his brow just slightly at his little brother, who returned a barely noticeable shrug. "Mom, pass me that glass, please? Really hot today, isn't it?"

"Unseasonably warm," Spencer agreed immediately, and Elizabeth groaned inwardly. It was never a good sign when people turned to the weather for conversation at a party. "Hopefully, it'll cool off soon enough. It's basically autumn."

"Time flies," Molly nodded, twining and untwining her fingers between her knees. "So…"

Jake was sniffing lightly. "…Is something burning?"

Elizabeth, who was in the process of pouring Kristina a glass of water, gasped. "Brownies!"

Her youngest was off the couch instantly and heading toward the kitchen. "I got it, Mom."

Amalia, too, shot up out of her seat. "I'll come with you." She cleared her throat as she passed Elizabeth and Jason, both of whom were looking at her curiously. "You should see him – he's a disaster in the kitchen. Be right back."

Conversation turned back to Cameron's article while they were gone, and when Jake and Amalia returned with a plate of fresh brownies, Cameron was outlining the basic premises of the article for Jason, who'd missed the first run-through.

Elizabeth glanced up and saw Amalia laughing at something Jake was saying and then there was a knock at the door and she found her twice over ex-husband letting himself in. Even after all these years, Lucky still had a key to the house.

A key that he always made a point to use.

Extra points if he got to use it in front of Jason.

Her current lover was, at the moment, glaring at Lucky as he trotted down the steps into the living room, making sure to swing the keys around his finger in blatant show. He nodded at Spencer, clapping his nephew on the back, and the Prince moved aside and let Lucky take his seat, sitting closer to his wife now.

"Pop." Jake's expression was back to being perfectly and painstakingly pleasant, but Amalia's expression had hardened. "Didn't think you'd make it."

Lucky's pale blue eyes glittered harshly, and it didn't take Elizabeth long to see that he was in a foul mood. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that I didn't think you'd be able to make it," Jake repeated with a smile that was, once again, surprise, surprise, perfectly pleasant. "I know how busy you are these days."

His step-father's lips curled into an ugly snarl. "You mean cleaning up after you and your thugs? Yeah, your men keep me busy, all right – busy putting them away."

"And you keep me busy, getting them back on the street within twenty-four hours," Kristina smiled, and Jake shot her a twinkling look. His penchant for quick, sly remarks had rubbed off on his lawyer, who apparently had no patience for the on-again, off-again boyfriend of her much older half-sister.

Lucky didn't see her fit for a retort and instead looked back at Jake. "I'm amazed you're the one that has time to drop by one of your mother's house parties. Don't you have drugs to pack and ship?"

Elizabeth was on her feet before she realized it. "Lucky, please-"

He held out his hand. "No, Elizabeth, don't defend him. And for once, don't try to ignore what he does."

"If by drugs, you mean, coffee," Jake purred, making a deliberate show of flopping carelessly down onto the couch between his brother and father, "then you're absolutely right. But I'm lucky – I've got two guys that handle a lot of it should I ever be indisposed. Two…right hand men, I guess you could call them. But then again, you already knew that."

Jason glared at him for dangling the bait that way, and Lucky's eyes darkened with anger, but Jake couldn't have appeared to care less.

"I knew that," Lucky agreed, his voice tight and his words clipped. "I also know what you did in Ironvale this weekend."

Elizabeth looked over at her son, and Jake's expression didn't change. His eyes remained cool and placid, his easy half-smile perfectly in place. She saw Jason's eyes dart sideways at his boy as he discreetly twined his fingers together between his knees. She knew it as one of his very few tells and knew then that whatever Lucky said next would likely be true.

"I wasn't in Ironvale this weekend," Jake replied easily. "I was in Boston at a Red Sox game. Showed up on the JumboLoveTron and almost had to make out with Morgan."

Morgan snorted. "You should _be_ so lucky."

Lucky rolled his eyes when Cecily and Anna started laughing, and he obviously didn't care much for Jake's recitation of his alibi. "Commissioner Charles Burke was found murdered in his office early Saturday morning."

Jason's mask descended and he worked his jaw. Elizabeth closed her eyes.

"Since he was putting the screws to your buddy Sal over there, investigating him for the murder of the Laconi brothers, we're pretty sure we know which old college buddy he tapped to help him out."

Jake snorted. "Did your detectives tell you that? Better invest in better tin-can-and-string technology, Pop. Sal went to Dartmouth. The armpit of the Ivy Leagues."

"He went to Dartmouth where he played on the men's basketball team," Lucky corrected loudly, "which is how you met him while you played for Yale. You two have done business together over the years – we have the records that prove it."

"Oh, yeah." Jake smiled sheepishly. "Forgot about that."

Lucky looked perilously close to violence, and Elizabeth saw Kristina watching him carefully from across the room, her fingers wrapped tightly around her floral-etched glass of lemonade.

"We know you did it," he growled, moving closer to his son. Jason moved forward on the couch, ready to defend Jake if it came to that, but the man on trial remained sprawled casually where he was. "We know you had your men break in and kill him. God, do you have no limits? You killed him just because he was doing his job and trying to put one of your mob buddies behind bars! And now all the neighboring towns have been brought in to deal with this, and I'm telling you right now, I will do whatever I have to under the powers of my office to make sure that you pay for this, that you learn that you can't get away with-"

Jason was on his feet instantly, backing Lucky off as Jake watched, unconcerned. "Hey-"

"Commissioner." Kristina slammed her glass down on the table, making Elizabeth flinch. She didn't get up from her seat, just turned sober brown eyes up to the police officer, her gaze hard and assessing. "An informal house party does not give you the right or reason to act equally informally in the execution of your powers of office. Remember that."

He didn't appreciate the edge in her voice or the way she was looking at him as if he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe, and Lucky bristled, momentarily forgetting about Jake and Jason.

"Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?" he growled.

Kristina primly crossed her legs, her expression never softening. "It's a reminder – a reminder that there exists a certain legal protocol to your job, regardless of the fact that you show yourself to be routinely ignorant of it."

Elizabeth winced. That wouldn't go over well.

He turned his full attention – and ire – on the young attorney. Morgan was frowning at him, daring Lucky to go too far so he could jump in and defend his sister, but he knew Kristina didn't particularly need the help. The legal field could generally be something of a boys' club, and she'd been handling herself just fine since she first became an associate.

"Of course you'd want me to turn a blind eye to all the people he's killed over the years," Lucky snorted. "I won't do it. It doesn't matter that he's my son, what matters is that he's breaking the law and _has to be held responsible._"

"I don't want or expect you to turn a blind eye to all the people you suspect him of killing over the years," Kristina told him calmly, shrugging. "All I ask is that you live up to the standards that all of your fellow officers across the country follow. You launch an objective investigation – which would obviously mean taking yourself off the case, since you clearly don't know the meaning of the word.

"You form a case against him. You obtain a search warrant. You build your case. You obtain an arrest warrant and take him into custody to await trial. _That_ is what I expect you to do, Commissioner. Is any of this ringing a bell? Perhaps reminding you of your days in the academy?"

Lucky's hands had curled into fists, his lips twisted in a ferocious scowl. "I don't need to stand here and be talked down to by some-"

"No, what you need to do is take my advice," Kristina broke in loudly, rising to her feet. "I will not have you harassing my client in public, in front of his friends, family, and business associates. I won't stand for it."

"Your _client_ is a murderer and will have to take responsibility for it!" Lucky yelled, pointing behind him at Jake who couldn't quite hide his amused smile. Elizabeth looked at him, knowing that what Lucky said about the murder was likely true, but hoping she'd see something on Jake's face – regret, guilt, shame, anything – but there was nothing to suggest any of that.

"My client does not forfeit his rights to due process based on his notoriety, wealth, or the people he associates with," she shot back, sounding exactly like her mother when she was worked up. Watching Kristina defend Jake was just like flashing back in time to see Alexis defend Jason and Sonny.

"And don't forget that if you push this, I will gleefully have you stripped of your badge and office. And that _is_ a threat, I promise you."

Lucky snorted again. "Your mother would always make idle threats about that, too. She was smart enough to know she didn't have the pull in town to go through with it."

Kristina arched a brow at him. "Commissioner, I have lunch once a month with Quincy Merritt." The smug look on his face began to fade.

"You recognize his name, right? The governor of our state? He was my alumni mentor in law school. And whenever we get together, he asks me how I'm getting on with the higher-ups in town. I'm sure he'd be very interested to know of a renegade police commissioner who thinks the criminal process of this country doesn't apply to him."

She sat down again in her seat and reached calmly for her glass. "And remember, my threats are never idle. You confuse me with my mother, but the difference is that my father and Jason were never national figures. They were important in the Tri-State area; their influence spread no farther. Jake commands significantly more attention, and his circle of associates is larger and more influential. You're going to need a lot more help if your plan is to take him down. That's just how it is."

Jake made the mistake of smiling when Lucky turned around, and it was enough to set him off again.

"This is what you do, isn't it?" he demanded, glaring down at his son. Jason moved to stand in front of Jake, but it didn't dissuade Lucky. "How do you do it? How do you have all these people banding around you to defend you so you don't even have to lift a finger? God, you're just like…him!"

He jabbed a finger at Jason. "You had an army of women circling up around you any time you were in trouble, ready to lie and steal and break the law for you. Alexis, Carly, Sam, Robin, Courtney, Elizabeth, Emily-"

That was enough for Spencer to jump to his feet as well as Jason's expression darkened. "That's enough. Do _not_ bring her into your arguments. You should know better than that."

"Uncle Lucky," Cecily said slowly, folding her arms over her chest, "…This isn't the time or the place."

"Yeah, this party's for Cam," Anna emphasized, absently picking at her nails. "It's the Let's Celebrate Cameron's Nerdiness Party. The Let's Have Jake Drawn and Quartered Party is across town in the DA's office. If you hurry, you can still make it. I hear they have cookies."

"Just once, I'd like to see you defend yourself," Lucky said tightly, glaring down at Jake. "Jason never did. I'd like to see if you're capable of it. Defending yourself and not relying on a bunch of stupid women and sycophants to get you out of the messes you make. You won't learn anything about how to be a man until you do."

Jake let out a laugh at that. "Actually, I've learned how to be a man by doing the opposite of everything you do."

Lucky's face turned bright red with anger, and even Elizabeth cringed at the boyish irreverence with which Jake delivered the blow.

"You honestly think you're any kind of a man now?" He shook his head. "You could have been. There wasn't a single thing your mother and I didn't give you. We made sure you had a roof over your head, we gave you love and attention and made sure you knew how important you were to both of us. Wherever we went, we took you with us. I took you to the police station and she took you to the hospital so you could see what it meant to be a productive, upstanding member of society. We gave you _everything_. You were our pride and joy, and-"

"And the joke's on you," Jake interrupted quietly, serious now for the first time in the whole conversation.

"Because I turned out the way I did, and Cameron turned out to be the best Webber boy. The one that you ignored, the one you never chose, turned out to be one of the most productive, upstanding people in this whole town, the one that everyone can learn a lesson or two from. But you never cared, you were never around for him the way you wanted to be around for me, just to stick it to Mom and Jason that _you _were the one that got to be in my life. So think about that: maybe you should have focused all that love and attention on the kid that actually would have continued to think of you as his father."

It was like a sucker-punch to the gut for all three of them, Jason, Elizabeth, and Lucky, and no one protested when Lucky sputtered angrily and stormed out of the house, slamming the door so hard that one of the framed paintings fell to the floor.

Elizabeth and Jason stared at each other, barely remembering to breathe, and Jake settled down comfortably on the couch next to his brother once more, all the unpleasantness instantly forgotten.

Her knees felt weak and Elizabeth slowly lowered herself into her chair again. She didn't remember jumping to her feet. Jason remained standing. From the couch, Jake had motioned toward the pitcher of lemonade and Cameron had reached out to refill his glass.

"So." He kept his brown eyes on the pale yellow liquid as he filled to the halfway point before Jake held up his hand. "You really think I'm the best Webber?"

Jake took a sip and drummed his fingers on his thigh. "Sure, I do."

He smirked at his brother, causing Morgan to roll his eyes, knowing what was coming next. "But only by default."

"Yeah?" Cameron shot him an amused look. "How so?"

"Well," Jake shrugged, grinning, "I'm not technically a Webber anymore, am I?"


	74. With Fingers Crossed

**Note – **Go to www[dot]twitter[dot]com[slash] and after the / [slash] type in jakewebber, amaliazacchara, morgancorinthos, annaphrodesiac, mollylansing, and cameronwebber to see all of the characters' Twitter pages. I'm starting them off as kids and they'll be gradually aging, and the tweets will correspond with plot points in Mean AND sometimes tell other mini stories as well. :) Heeee. I'm schizophrenic.

**Mean | 73**

_Kiss the world with fingers crossed_

_I've kissed the world with fingers crossed._

_I've been praised,_

_I've been cursed; _

_I've been blamed_

_And I've won_

_And I've lost._

-- "Song For No One," Ian Broudie

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

"Jason?"

He saw the copy of the morning paper in her hands as soon as he entered the house and Jason stopped.

He'd done his best to keep her from getting her hands on that. He'd taken the copy that the paperboy tossed into her flower bed and dumped it into the recycling canister as it was. He'd slapped a hundred dollar bill down on the counter and taken all the ones that Kelly's had in the bin, after instructing the waitress that she was not to have it refilled. He'd made sure the newspapers were removed from The Coffee Shop (the baristas were instructed to say that the delivery truck was running late), and he'd even paid off one of the truckers not to make the day's drop at the hospital. Anywhere Elizabeth might go during the day, he'd already hit up.

It was futile, really. She only had to go online to see the news that he was trying to keep from her, or go next door and take Robin's copy. Or be handed a newspaper by a well-meaning friend who saw her son's name in the paper and wanted her to be aware of it.

And that was probably what had happened, because Elizabeth was holding a copy of the _Port Charles Reporter_ and frowning at the headline under which Jake's picture appeared.

He couldn't say that he'd expected complete success when he set out on his mission this morning to keep the news from her. All he knew was that there was really nothing he could do, and since that wasn't acceptable, he had to settle on _something_ to do.

Holding his breath, Jason set his keys down on the table and kicked the door shut with his foot. "Yeah?"

"Who's…" Elizabeth squinted at the article. "…Carmine Mazza?"

Jason had known that the question was coming, but still found himself unprepared to answer. "He…"

She was looking at him expectantly, impatiently. "Yeah?"

"He…was an old associate of mine." He stripped off his jacket and dumped it on the couch, turning away from her to look out onto the street, what he hoped was a signal that he was done with the conversation. "We almost did business with him once, but backed out. Haven't kept in touch with him."

"But he's still a part of…the business?" she pressed, sounding as if she were fumbling for the words. "He still runs his own, I mean?"

He didn't answer, and Elizabeth turned back to the article. "It's sketchy on the details. It says that he's an alleged mafia overlord but was never charged with anything, much less convicted. They say he's a recluse, that he has been for decades, and that's why no one really knows that much about him. Is that true?"

"I don't have any contact with him," Jason repeated, his back still to her. "The last time I talked to him was thirty years ago, easy."

"So it's got to be true," she mused. "He's kept himself off the radar and still manages his organization. Is it possible to be the head of a business like that _and_ be a recluse?"

"I don't know."

"It says that Jake's been spotted visiting him at his home in Garden City. That's in Long Island."

Jason didn't say anything.

Elizabeth was still skimming the article for the third time. "He was there twice this past week, and about seven times so far this month, making all those trips to Long Island because this Mazza man doesn't come out of his house anymore. What do you think Jake's visiting him for?"

Again, Jason stayed quiet.

"He's got quite a reputation," Elizabeth murmured. "That's all they're saying, that he has quite a reputation for being a bully, and is really intimidating, but they didn't get into specifics. What's he like? Do you know?"

Jason remained silent for a long moment before shaking his head. "Don't know much of anything about him anymore."

Elizabeth frowned, knowing an evasion when she heard one. "What could he and Jake be meeting for? Did Mazza call Jake to his house all these times? Is Jake going on his own? What's he getting out of this? What's he _doing _there?"

With his back to her, Elizabeth couldn't see Jason gritting his teeth. "I can't talk about it. It's business."

"You said you haven't ever done business with him," she pointed out, immediately jumping on his words. "You were about to but you didn't. And you haven't had much to do with him since. Would it really matter if you answered my questions?"

"Yes," Jason got out through gritted teeth as he turned away from the window and headed to the kitchen.

Elizabeth followed him, as he'd been hoping she wouldn't. "All I want to know is who this guy is that Jake's all of a sudden spending so much time with. The papers won't tell you anything, they're so worried about getting sued."

It was true: a few of the local New York papers had printed salacious stories, mostly about her and Jason, shortly after Jake's paternity had been revealed. Jake had sued all five of them and won damages from two of them. Two that escaped verdict printed a retraction and apology for the sake of good will and good business sense; the last one did nothing.

It didn't really matter that Jake only prevailed in two of the five suits; he made his point and papers on the East Coast were careful about what they printed after that. The incredibly unfavorable stories about Jason and Elizabeth continued to be printed as new gossip came in, but the writers and editors were much more careful about covering their asses so Jake couldn't sue. And Jake, for his part, made an effort to stop paying attention to such things anyway, and wouldn't have sued because he wasn't even aware of what was being printed about his parents, anyway.

"I told you, no one really knows anything about this guy."

"But you do," she pressed. "Is he as dangerous as I think he is? Is it safe for Jake to be around him? What does a man like that want with Jake, anyway?"

"Elizabeth, I told you, I can't talk about it!"

She pulled back when he yelled, and pursed her lips together. "Can't? Or won't?"

Jason stared at her, squaring his jaw. "…Won't."

"Why not?!"

"Because it's business!" he shot back. "And I don't talk about business."

"It's not business," Elizabeth retorted. "It's not _your_ business. You're not even a part of it anymore."

She regretted it as soon as it came out, but then found herself wondering if she should have. It wasn't like she'd said something that wasn't true.

Jason gaped at her, his cheeks very slowly turning a dull red. "…It will _always_ be my business. Just because I'm not a part of it anymore doesn't mean I can tell you everything about it."

"I'm not asking you to tell me everything," she cried. "I just want to know about this guy that Jake's been spending so much time with! And you're the only one that knows."

"I'm not telling you," he maintained. "You know I don't discuss the business. We've been over this. You said you understood. You always said you understood."

"But you're not _in_ the business anymore," Elizabeth persisted.

"That doesn't matter!"

"Don't yell at me."

He mimicked her stance. "Don't ask me to do something you know I won't do."

"I'm not asking you to pen your memoirs about life as a _hitman_." She practically sneered the last word, and Jason scowled. "I'm asking you to tell me if I should be worried about my son."

Jason sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, then answered truthfully, weary of the conversation and her persistence. "You should _always_ be worried about your son. Happy?"

Her jaw dropped. "That's a terrible thing to say!"

"What do you want from me, Elizabeth?" he demanded, turning his palms up in frustration and exasperation. "You wanted the truth, right? The truth is, you should always worry about Jake. It's just the nature of his job, like it was the nature of mine before."

He stalked past her and back into the living room, having forgotten about that glass of water he wanted. "I can't tell you anything because you don't talk about the business. That's never going to change."

"So how am I supposed to know anything?" she demanded, marching after him. "The papers? They don't say _anything_. And half of what they say isn't true, anyway. And you know, but you won't tell me anything, either. You kept me in the dark about your life and your business practically the whole time I met you, and now Jake's doing the same! What am I supposed to do?"

Jason whirled on her, unable to take it anymore. "Kept you in the dark? You're making it sound like you were the only one I never told anything. I didn't tell _anyone_ anything other than the people I worked with, so why would you be any different? And why would Jake do anything differently?"

Elizabeth gaped at him. "I-"

"And wasn't that what you wanted?" Jason persisted, his voice growing louder. "After we slept together, you kept saying that my life was dangerous, that you couldn't be around me with your kids because of what I did, that you didn't belong in my world. You said it'd be better for me to give Jake to you because of that, and then we broke everything off because the boys needed to be kept away from what I did."

"That was-"

"And you _always_ made sure that you had nothing to do with anything that I was a part of," he continued. "Which was fine, because you were right, any connection to me would have put the three of you in danger. But don't turn that around now, now that everything's over and done with and Jake's in the business and doing whatever the hell he wants, now that none of our choices mean anything anymore. Don't act like you can handle knowing about the business and knowing what kind of men Jake is involved with. Because for most of your life, you made it very clear that you couldn't."

He shook his head and backed away, grabbing his jacket and keys. "You don't get to change that now and expect me to tell you everything about my world. You're the one that made it clear that you didn't want to be a part of it. And even now, when that's in the past, you're still not in any position to demand information from me."

The paper crinkled in Elizabeth's hands as she fisted it, watching him walk out of the house and get back on his bike, and she flung it onto the floor. Running a hand through her hair, she turned away from the window as he revved the engine and pulled away from the curb, forcing herself to take a few deep, cleansing breaths.

But her eyes fell on the picture of her, Jake and Cameron that was sitting on the mantle, taken right after Jake's graduation when he was planning on working for Jax and everything was right and safe with her world. When she took a step back, she stepped on the newspaper she'd flung away.

Elizabeth licked her lips, considering it for a moment, and then reached for the phone, hitting the third speed dial. She waited while it rang and didn't bother with pleasantries.

"Carly, hey. What do you know about this guy named Carmine Mazza? Tell me everything."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

"What's up?"

"Jake." Johnny, smiling, reached out and cupped Jake's cheek affectionately before beckoning him toward the booth. "Sit. We're glad you could meet us."

He nodded and loosened his tie, wearily sliding into the booth. Jason and Sonny were there, flanked by Jake and Johnny, and all three of them watched the young man closely.

There were bags under his eyes. Dark gold stubble glistened on his jaw and cheeks, his hair was a little messy, and his eyes lacked their sharp sparkle. Despite the fact that he was obviously tired, most likely sleep-deprived, his leg bounced with nervous energy.

Jake scrubbed a hand over his face and nodded, accepting a beer from the hostess without even looking up. "What did you want to meet about?"

Johnny tilted his head to the side, and his voice when he spoke was low and gentle. "…We're worried about you, Jake."

Jason folded his hands together on the table. "We think you're spreading yourself too thin. With the business, with ELQ, with your obligations at the hospital and town council, and…with Carmine Mazza."

Jake stiffened. "I don't recall discussing Carmine Mazza with any of you."

"It's in all the papers," Johnny informed him. "They're sketchy on the details, obviously. There's not a real investigative journalist in the whole lot. But the fact that Carmine's lived all alone in his house in Long Island for thirty years and refused to come out or do business to anyone or even talk to anyone, and all of a sudden you're his most frequent houseguest…that's raised eyebrows."

Jake didn't say a word.

"We're worried you're in too deep," Sonny agreed. "Mazza isn't the kind of man you mess around with. Jason and I were planning on doing business with him but he made too many demands, wanted everything his way, wasn't prepared to give an inch. We didn't want that kind of one-sided relationship, so we pulled out. We made the right decision."

Jake's expression had turned bland, and Jason could see that he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Mazza's a dangerous man, only out for himself," Sonny continued. "You think that he has any of your best interests at heart? You're wrong. He's only gotten worse over the years. Most of us, the ones that have spoken to him or worked with him, we think he's going a little senile, spending thirty years alone in his house with just his staff."

He shook his head. "And what do you know about these things? Nothing. You just got the business, you didn't get our experiences or our memories or our relationships with these people. You know nothing about Mazza. He'll chew you up and spit you out before you even realize what happened. And you're too green to realize-"

"Okay."

Jake slipped out of the booth and stood, looking at Johnny and Jason as he pointed at Sonny. "Honestly, I don't give a shit about what he has to say because it's clear to me he has my best interests at heart as much as he claims Carmine does. So either he leaves, or I do."

He only gave them three seconds to react, and when Jason and Johnny stared at him, Jake turned on his heel and would have left the bar had Jason not called out to him.

"Okay, okay, fine. Sonny." He glared at his friend when Sonny scowled. "Look, this is more important. Just wait for me at the bar, okay?"

Grumbling, Sonny slid out of the booth. He glared at Jake as he passed, but Jake couldn't have cared less. With Sonny sulking at the bar, he slid back into the booth, looking more relaxed.

"Okay, I'm listening."

"I don't agree with everything Sonny said," Johnny started slowly. "I give you more credit than he does. And I'm not even that worried about how you're handling Mazza. He's a son of a bitch, but then again, you are, too."

Jason watched Jake smirk at that, and saw that Johnny wore a matching smile. "Johnny's right. Whatever you're doing with Mazza, we don't know, and we're not asking you to tell us."

Jake blinked at him. "So what's this pow-wow about, then?"

"We're worried about you," Johnny repeated firmly. "We've been watching what you're doing to yourself. You're trying to juggle the organization, your grandfather's company, your responsibilities in Port Charles, your personal life with your friends, and you're running around doing things for Mazza, too. You've got a lot on your plate, Jake. Too much."

"I can handle it," he responded automatically, that leg of his still bouncing suspiciously and making Jason's eyes narrow. "I'm doing fine. Besides, I've got help."

"Chase and Penn are good guys," Johnny agreed, "but I know you. It takes a lot for you to delegate the important stuff. And they don't have a hand in ELQ, and they can't do your town council or hospital board stuff for you. You're doing too much on your own, Jake."

"It's bound to catch up with you," Jason told him gently. "That was my problem, too, especially when I took the business over from Sonny. Everything fell on me. I had your mother to look after and keep safe, I had Sam to keep safe, I had Carly and Jax and their family to keep safe, I had Lulu to look after, Spinelli and Maxie had just become a package deal and she was _always_ around…"

Jake had to smile at that.

"…Lucky would cause problems for me but I had to keep him safe, too, because of the agreement I made with your mother." Jason's eyes were pained but Jake could see him try to hide it, which was what stopped him from being ugly and exploiting his father's emotions. "And then I had Sonny, who had to be protected even though he was trying to get out. Michael was in the facility, and I had to make sure he stayed safe. And on top of keeping all those people safe and knowing where they were all the time, I had a business to run. The Feds were starting to close in, and I had to keep them at bay. There were other rivals that wanted to take the territories from me."

He shook his head and looked down at the beer bottle in front of him. "I was doing too much. I was working all the time, not eating enough, not sleeping enough, never stopping. I could have made so many mistakes because I was stretching myself too thin. It was the worst time in my life, before things calmed down. I had Max and Milo and Francis and Ritchie to handle things for me, but it wasn't enough sometimes because I didn't want to leave the really important things to them. And I only had one organization to run. You have ELQ, too."

"I understand what you're saying," Jake said slowly, wondering if Jason even believed him anymore. He didn't say it with malice or sarcasm: he genuinely meant it. "I know that you're both trying to look out for me and keep me from getting hurt. Trust me, I know that. And I appreciate your advice and your concern."

Jason's shoulders slumped. "But you're not going to do anything about it."

Jake shrugged. "What do you want from me? I know what I'm doing. More importantly, I know what I have to do."

He had known that this time would come, and he'd done what he could to prepare himself for it. Edward leaving ELQ to him had kind of thrown a wrench in the system, and he could admit that he was struggling now more than he planned on, but Jake knew that he didn't have it in him to decline his grandfather's offer. Edward had given him the company he'd created, the company that bore Jake's ancestral name, and he'd take it and do the absolute best he could so as to avoid bringing any kind of disgrace to the grandfather that had supported him and loved him since he'd learned of him.

Admittedly, though, things were moving a little too fast. But Jake knew that it had to be this way. When Amalia had freaked out, he hadn't seen it coming but later realized he should have. And she was right: she couldn't wait forever. She'd given him more time and they were fine, but Jake had been determined not to waste any more of her time. All the things he had his hand in now, they were all means to an end. He needed to do all of this to put himself where he needed to be.

And then, like Jason had been talking about, things would calm down.

"I know what I have to do, and this is it." He shrugged again. "I'm not going to give up the business, I'm not going to downsize it, and I'm not going to split it up and delegate it. It works best with one man at the head. You and Sonny are the best examples of that: when he made you partner, the business suffered. When it was just him in charge, or just you in charge, the business prospered. You can't deny that."

Jason licked his lips and said nothing.

"And I won't give up ELQ." His tone made it clear that this was non-negotiable. "I won't sell it, I won't merge it with a comparable firm, I won't decrease its size or number of subsidiaries, and I won't name a proxy to handle all of my day-to-day duties. It just won't happen. And definitely not so long as Grandfather is alive."

"He'd understand," Jason persisted. "He'd understand if you needed to-"

Jake burst out laughing. "Are you kidding? He'd understand? This was his plan all along. He gave me his business hoping that I'd take a step back from your business."

He shook his head, still smiling, as Jason gaped at him. "What? You're surprised that I figured that out? Look, I love Grandfather without question, but I also know that he's a snake. Just like me. He did exactly what I would have done if I wanted to dissuade someone from pursuing a particular line of work. No, I'm not going to do anything to ELQ. I'm going to keep running it the way he did.

"And as for the rest of it…" He shrugged once more. "The fact is, I need all of that stuff. The hospital board position, the board of education, the town council, the historic society, the trustee positions. I need all of it. Especially being so close to Morgan, who's breaking away from the business and running for office – a little legitimacy like that goes a long way. I need people to look up 'Jake Morgan' online and find out that even though he's expanding past the East Coast, he's invested in his community. It's just smart. Besides, Kay and Moll would kick my ass if I tried to step down. They were concerned about my public image and made me get involved in all that stuff, anyway."

Jason frowned. "I always thought you did it on your own, to control different agencies in town."

"I don't really control any of those areas," Jake replied. "I just sit there. Make a few policy decisions. Vote. Contribute a column to the respective newsletters. It was never about getting my hand in different Port Charles agencies to control town. It was a public relations campaign. An aggressive one, actually. Moll's a genius when it comes to my image. She's careful about it, and so is Kay. They make sure I always do everything I have to in order to keep the public on my side for when I need them later."

Jason had never worried about his public image and was sniffed at by society reporters because he never _did_ anything. He didn't date supermodels and show up at all the high-end restaurants. He didn't wreck a new luxury car every week. He didn't jet-set around the world and show up stumbling drunk at some new tropical local every few days. He minded his own business and kept to himself, and there was nothing tabloid-worthy about that.

Johnny was a little bit better, at least in his younger years. He was reckless and threw money around like confetti. The paparazzi had plenty of shots of him standing on the edges of tall buildings about to fall off, making out with lingerie models, attending fashion shows, throwing parties at the world's most expensive hotels, all of that good stuff.

He was still somewhat wild after he inherited his father's business, and he and Lulu had been snapped all over the world, on beaches, in resort towns, on yachts, everywhere. It wasn't until Johnny had gotten together with Nadine and become a father that he really pulled back and left his old ways behind him. He moved everyone into his ancestral home, he settled down to run the family business, and he became a devoted, faithful husband, a shrewd and responsible businessman, and a doting father.

It was all devastatingly boring in the world of gossip rags, so he'd generally been left alone for the past twenty years.

Jake, on the other hand, had grown up in the age of social media. He didn't know that much about harnessing his public image, but he knew that he had to. That was where his lawyer and his consultant came in. Kristina would spin all of his legal issues away and Molly would keep her finger to the pulse of what the people thought about him.

It was why Jake had a (private) Facebook account, a (public) Twitter account with upwards of two hundred thousand followers so far, ran his own business blog that was a direct affiliate with the Wall Street Journal, donated to all the right charities, had public lunches with various actors, political figures, writers, and activists, and showed up at all local functions personally. Molly and Kristina made sure the public had access to him without actually having access to him, and their genius made Jake appear relatable, sympathetic, charming, goofy, and personable.

It was a carefully crafted image they made for him, and the veneer sometimes slipped. The most notable accident was when Jake had been caught on tape (but off the record) making a rude remark about a New York art gallery's pretentious showings. He was called ignorant, plebian, low-brow, a common denominator, and so on. The next week, he was photographed at the opera with Kristina on his arm and tears in his eyes during a particularly moving opera, and was suddenly cultured, sharp-witted, a glowing patron of the arts, sophisticated, and in possession of a fine artistic mind.

All was forgiven, the illusory image back in place.

"That's why I can't scale back on that, either," he was saying. "Nor do I want to. It's a vital part of my image and I'd take a good hit if I dropped it."

"You're not listening to us," Johnny broke in, his voice more stern this time. "You want to keep doing what you're doing, fine. But take care of yourself, Jake. You're exhausted. You run around at all odd hours of the day and night, and you're not getting any rest."

"And your mother says you've been losing weight," Jason chimed in.

Jake rolled his eyes. "She always thinks I'm losing weight."

"We just want you to take care of yourself," Jason repeated firmly. "Eat. Sleep. Take a break and have fun, for fuck's sake. You're still young. You're going to kill yourself like this. Would it really be that bad if you scaled back a little – just a little? Maybe sent more proxies to your town meetings, let ELQ sit stagnant for a year or two…stopped being at Mazza's beck and call?"

Jake sighed and slid out of the booth again, standing in front of them. He fastened the two buttons on his suit jacket and tugged at the sleeves, making it clear that he was done.

"Listen, I have to go. I do appreciate your concern, really. I know you're only saying this because you're worried, so I'll tell you again: don't be. I can handle all this. I'm doing fine. And it won't be like this forever. Every business has its moments where everything is crazy and then things settle down. I knew what I was getting into."

"How long do you think you'll keep this up?" Johnny asked quietly. "You might be able to handle it now, but I don't want to think about what will happen if you burn out."

"Won't burn out," he said, shaking his head. "Just have to push through this."

"You know that we're both here, though, right?" Johnny persisted. "Me _and_ your father. If you need anything, you call us. We'll do what we can, no questions asked, no judgment."

They all knew that Jake was far more likely to call Johnny for help than Jason. Instead of giving voice to this and confirming it, Jake just nodded and even managed a kind smile.

"Yeah, I know. And I appreciate it."

Johnny nodded, sitting back in his booth and knowing that there was little else they could say to get through to the boy. "Honestly, though, kid, I have no idea how you do it. Maybe I've just forgotten what it's like to be a young man."

He looked at Jason when he said this, and the former enforcer smiled in rueful agreement.

"Youth is a powerful thing," Johnny mused. "Makes you feel like you're invincible. Unstoppable. Guess that's what keeps your energy levels up, huh?"

"Well, that," Jake agreed, "plus, I've got a mild crack habit. So there's always that."

He turned on his heel, smirking, and slipped a hand into his pocket, lifting the other one up at them. "I'll see you both later. Have a good night."


	75. Rock

**Note – **Racism warning in this chapter. I just believe that a very old, bitter Italian man would be racist. Sorry.

Also, it's nice to see so many of you on Twitter now. Hope you're enjoying the conversations between Jake and the gang. I can't wait to age them faster so that they're caught up with this story.

**Mean | 74**

_I am a rock._

_I am an island._

-- "I am a Rock," Simon and Garfunkel

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

It was his first night off in months, and Jake was set on enjoying it.

He'd have enjoyed it more if Amalia was in town, but she was in Milan visiting her aunt. Every so often, Claudia got pissy and demanded that Johnny come see her, or that he send her sister-in-law or her niece so that Claudia would have someone to go shopping and dining with. She disliked coming to Port Charles since whenever she did, Johnny made it a point to put her up with them at 235 Cherry Blossom Lane, and Claudia hated living like 'a middle class person.'

She said that with all possible disdain, too.

So because Amalia was enjoying her time in Milan and no doubt being spoiled rotten by her aunt, Jake found himself alone at home. And he didn't mind it at all. Normally when he had some free time, he had dinner with his brother or went out drinking with Morgan. Sometimes he sat down at the keyboard with Mal on his guitar, drank cognac and listened to old concertos with Spencer, or shot pool with Chase and Penn. There was certainly no shortage of people to hang out with.

But he'd been working himself ragged for the past few weeks and tonight, thought he'd just enjoy some time alone. So he'd spent the day in with his staff, read various local newspapers (_The Port Charles Reporter, The Crimson Pointe Gazette, The Wall Street Journal, The New York Post, The New York Times_, a rare luxury to be able to go through them all) from breakfast until lunch, which he enjoyed out on the deck, and caught up with some paperwork he'd been putting off.

Dinner was a pleasant affair and he'd changed into his pajamas immediately afterward, even pulling on the silk smoking jacket he'd gotten from Johnny, along with a fine box of cigars, for his last birthday.

A glass of port was in order, and he took it to the library. He left the doors open when he entered the massive room and set the glass on an antique end table in the reading nook, turning on all the lights. The way the nook was situated, he could sit in his favorite armchair and look out both doors at the same time, seeing the two hallways and into several rooms.

He liked that.

Instead of opting for music, Jake simply opened the windows and the doors leading out to the side terrace so that he could hear the sounds of the night. He liked hearing the wind rustle through the forest of trees behind the house, and there was a small population of deer and wolves that traversed the property. Sometimes he was able to see them instead of just hear them as the branches crackled and snapped underfoot.

Jake sat back in his favorite armchair and reached for the port, closing his eyes as a breeze swept through the room. It had been a beautiful night just like this one a few weeks ago when his mother interrupted him and Amalia by bursting into his home unannounced and wanting to talk business.

She'd just learned from Carly, who had never mastered the subtle art of keeping her goddamn trout mouth shut, that Carmine Mazza was not a very nice man. And because Carmine Mazza was not a very nice man, his mother had decided that she didn't want him to associate with the guy.

She'd implored him not to do business with someone like Carmine Mazza, who was responsible for the brutal assassination of five US States Attorneys, the mowing down of the previous generation of the Five Family heads, and ran the largest and most profitable New England drug cartel to date.

Jake had listened for all of a minute before informing her that he did not discuss business with any outsiders, and that the conversation was over. Elizabeth didn't take kindly to that and insisted that he hear her out, and in order to spare her feelings and keep himself from saying something that would hurt her, he'd retreated to the safety of his office and left her in the foyer.

Chase made sure she got home safe, and had advised her never to show up at Morgan Manor this way again. Jake had expected an angry phone call as soon as his mother got home. He got one. And he let it go straight to voicemail and didn't bother listening to it before he deleted it.

All in all, he was pretty proud of himself for the way he'd acted that night. He wanted to tell his mother a lot of things, first and foremost that it was absolutely unbelievable of her to stick her head in the sand about the business for her whole life, to the detriment of his life and Jason's life, and then suddenly expect to be made privy to details about it and have her opinions valued.

Oh, he'd wanted to tell his mother a lot of things that night. Instead, he just stopped her in the middle of her ridiculous rant and informed her that he had no idea what she was talking about and that even if he did, he didn't his business connections or operations with anyone outside of the business. He'd thanked her for coming and then excused himself. His guards took care of the rest and made sure he wasn't disturbed, and Jake was glad for that.

Thankfully, Elizabeth had followed Chase's sage advice and had not attempted to corner him about the business again. The guards he'd placed on Cherry Blossom Lane informed him that Jason hadn't been spending the night during the few days surrounding the incident and Jake had concluded that his mother had tried to pull something similar on his father and Jason hadn't stood for it.

But Jason had gone back to the house soon enough, so he assumed that they made up and got over it, not that it mattered what they did.

It was getting harder and harder to ignore Johnny and Jason in their concern over Carmine Mazza, but so far he was holding strong.

"Wolfe."

His dog, a tall white Irish wolfhound, had wandered into the library and made his way loyally to Jake's side. Amalia had gotten it for him on his last birthday, remembering how much he loved Kane and Teague, their childhood dogs. He reached out and scratched the top of his head, smiling when the dog laid his head on his thigh.

"What do you think?" He tousled those big ears, earning a soulful look. "I can tough it out, right?"

He knew Johnny and Jason were worried that Carmine would double-cross him, that he'd either kill him or sell him out. The thought had crossed Jake's mind many times, but his instincts told him that as long as he tread carefully, he'd be fine.

Carmine Mazza was a recluse, but he'd reached out to him first. Jake still remembered that night in Manhattan when he and Amalia were enjoying drinks after an opera and he'd gotten the call from the old man, congratulating him on being the head of the Morgan organization and ELQ. Carmine Mazza didn't reach out to anyone, so Jake knew how tremendous that phone call was. Even Amalia had been impressed.

"He's a rotten son of a bitch," Jake muttered, running his hand up and down the dog's back in long, rough strokes. "But he knows how to get things done."

It was true. During the economic downturn, many of Jake's associates were suffering. They were scrambling to keep turning a profit – a profit they could keep hidden from Uncle Sam as he searched the couch cushions for loose change.

Carmine, however, had a strategy. Jake had been sitting rather stiffly in a leather bucket chair pulled up next to the old man's wheelchair on his first visit to Mazza's Long Island home when he'd crooked a pale, gnarled finger at him and beckoned him to lean closer.

"The country's going to fall apart soon," Jake still remembered him saying. "The banks, they're stumbling. This war – the people are angry about it and tired. And the government's changing now that they've got a moolie coming in."

He hadn't been as surprised to hear that word as Jake later supposed he should have been. It occurred to him that when he prepared himself to meet the fearsome Carmine Mazza, he'd been prepared to expect the absolute worst.

"You keep yourself viable from the start, boy, you hear?" Here, Jake's ear had been roughly grabbed, something no one had dared do since his childhood. "Don't go being stupid. You think I got where I am by being stupid?"

Jake had readily agreed that he did not.

"You do what I tell you and you'll be fine," Carmine had wheezed, finally letting go of his ear as abruptly as he'd first grabbed onto it. "You'll come out with your money in hand, and they'll come out with just their dicks in their hands. If they're lucky."

Inevitably, the question had been asked: "Why are you helping me?"

Carmine had stared at him for a good minute before, quick as a flash, he reached out and boxed Jake on the ears hard enough that it stung quite badly. "Stupid little cunt," the old man had groused.

He'd never offered any further explanation, and Jake had been unable to figure it out.

All he knew was that Carmine's advice had been sound. Jake had watched exactly what he did and then did the same, and he was able to turn tremendous profits while the rest of the country tanked. Carmine had been right to spot the banks failing long before anyone else did, and he still maintained that before they were out of the woods, the 'moolie' would have nationalized some of them. Jake didn't agree – with the racist thought or the economic one – but he knew better than to say anything.

The strategy was simple: as large lenders went belly up and had to rely on taxpayer bailouts, Carmine used his agencies to set up lending shops. Jake did the same, setting up a multitude of small lending boutiques that catered to home owners and parents looking to finance their children's college educations and the standard loan recipients. They required a credit check but the standards were generally lax and they saw great returns. American consumers were getting the money they needed at interest rates comparable to the ones charged by the big guys that couldn't stay afloat on their own anymore.

Since Carmine no longer had the street presence, having moved on from that decades ago, he advised Jake to also set up shop in the streets and back alleys. Jake amassed a force of lower-level associates and street-runners to hang out along the waterfront and run their own lending boutique. The difference here was that the rates charged were exorbitant, and all money was paid out to the loan recipient up front.

Carmine offered him tips to tweak the operation, and before long Jake was seeing unfathomable returns – all money that the government couldn't get in its coffer.

In return for these meetings and operations, Jake was happy to take care of some business for Carmine. He ran errands for the old man, who was basically a prisoner in his own home, and he met with his associates and the planners of his estates and his many attorneys since Carmine claimed he didn't have the strength or patience to sit through long meetings with the stuffed suits. Jake even took out a few figures that Carmine desired not to be living any more, all at his own peril, and almost got caught for one of the hits.

"I guess John and Jason are right to be worried," he murmured, scratching his dog's chin. Wolfe yawned lazily, his long tongue lolling out. "They were almost able to pin the last one on me. And Carmine wouldn't have helped me even if I did get charged."

He was a selfish man, a real son of a bitch. Jake didn't like him at all on a personal level, but there was still something that drew him to him, that kept him from telling the old man that he was done.

"It's okay."

Wolfe set one of his monstrously large paws on top of Jake's hand as if offering comfort.

"Thankfully, they've made no move to get involved. I'd have a tougher time handling all of this if they were. John wouldn't – he knows better. Jason…I wouldn't put it past him. He still thinks of the business as somewhat his own. Probably because he thinks of me as somewhat his own…"

It was a disturbing thought, and Jake frowned, wondering why he'd said it. It was funny how these alarming sentiments usually came out when he was talking to his scraggly mutt.

"I can hold them off," he stated firmly, nodding at Wolfe who just cocked his head to the side. "It's not going to be a problem. And Carmine…well, I won't have to work with him forever. Besides, he'll probably be dead before long. And then things can go back to normal, right, boy?"

Wolfe let out a bark and, hearing deer out on the lawn, trotted out onto the terrace to investigate. Jake watched him stand there, a magnificent wolfhound reaching a height of three and a half feet at the withers. The animal gazed superciliously at the deer, mother and fawn, that nibbled on the sweet grass at the edge of the forest some distance away, and Jake was at once struck by the solitude and silence of the estate.

He loved Morgan Manor. Buying this house and moving into it was one of the best decisions he'd ever made. He'd finally gotten it how he liked it, with all the rooms properly painted and furnished. It had all his favorite amenities: swimming pools and conservatories and turrets and a biking trail leading into the forest. It was absolutely perfect for him.

But sometimes, the quiet sneaked up on him and caught him unaware so that he could think of nothing else. It was a terribly quiet house sometimes, even with the staff, even with Wolfe, who sometimes spent his days in the staff quarters.

The only time that the quiet was a distant memory instead of an annoying notion niggling at the back of his mind was when Amalia was here. She floated from one room to the other as if she owned the place, knowing where everything was, knowing every guard and staff member by name, leaving her things scattered around for him to find even when she had gone…and Jake wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

Her presence at the Manor wasn't permanent, though. But if things went how he hoped with Carmine and with the other irons he had in the fire…that might change soon enough.


	76. Leave Here Limping

**Note – **

_I'll watch you leave here limping._

-- "Next Contestant," Nickelback

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

"He looks different."

"Lost a little weight while he was in federal custody," Jake murmured before taking a sip from his mug. Coleman, upon learning that Jake's tastes were shifting from whiskey and scotch to eclectic beers, had started small-ordering more unique blends. Because of this, Jake had been coming to the bar far more regularly than he used to.

"Yeah, he's looking haggard," Morgan agreed, rubbing his fingers on his cheek. "Thin in the face."

"He's looking rough," Jake snorted. "Getting dragged in by the G-Men will do that to a guy, or so I hear."

They were talking, of course, about Bruno Adessi, Amalia's hopeful bridegroom. He'd proposed twice before being dragged in by the Feds, and then asked Johnny for Amalia's hand again as soon as he'd been released from federal custody. Johnny, having made a curious pact with his daughter, had refused. Bruno had not taken the news well.

"What's he doing in town?" Morgan wanted to know, turning toward his best friend. Sonny and Jason were at the bar not too far away from Bruno, and he kept his voice low in case they overheard…or were trying to eavesdrop. "I thought I saw his dad and a few others the other day. Is there a big mob meeting soon or something?"

Jake just looked at him over the rim of his mug.

Morgan leaned closer. "Well?"

He took a slow sip of his beer, savoring the many puzzling tastes, and arched a brow. "Are you asking as my friend or as a mayoral candidate?"

Morgan snapped his mouth shut, remembering too late that he and Jake couldn't converse about such things as casually as they used to. "Right, right."

He leaned back in his seat, noticing now that Sonny and Jason were watching them. They'd obviously seen Bruno, since he was talking – loudly – at the bar with another associate's son, and now his father and uncle were watching him and Jake, trying to get a read on the situation.

But the two of them had a lot of practice when it came to not giving them an inch.

"How's the beer?"

Jake tilted his head to the side, studying the beer left in the mug. "Pretty good, actually."

"Yeah?"

Sonny and Jason shifted at the bar, not looking terribly patient with the meaningless chatter.

"Yeah," Jake nodded, not bothering to look up, even when he heard Bruno say his name in conversation. "Coleman's got a good eye for good beers. You want to try some?"

He shook his head and held up his glass. "This whiskey's fine, thanks. What's it called, again?"

"Uh…" Jake looked at the bottle, glancing up when he saw Amalia float in. She ignored Sonny and Jason, pointedly ignored Bruno, and headed to the other end of the bar where Coleman had a cocktail and a dish of fresh peanuts waiting for her.

"It's, um…" It took him a second to regain his focus. "Hunahupus Imperial Stout. Black pour, thick head. Tastes and smells like chocolate and coffee beans. Good stuff. You sure you don't want some?"

"Good, thanks."

They were being watched by more people now, and were both aware of it. Bruno was saying far from complimentary things about Jake, as if hoping the other man would respond. Sonny and Jason remained tensely perched where they were, halfway between the rivals, and Amalia was sitting a few seats away, paying considerable attention to her cocktail.

Bruno had been watching her since she came in and was gazing even more pointedly at her. She didn't notice him, but Chase did. The guard, who was at Jake's during his off-hours, picked up his bottle and sidled closer to the young woman, leaning an arm protectively on the counter and partially hiding her from view. When Bruno and the other associate's son glared at him, Chase met their glares evenly and directly. A junior guard, taking Chase's cue, moved closer and widened his stance, not appearing threatening but making it clear that Amalia was to be left alone.

Not wanting to risk being embarrassed by a woman in public, Bruno turned his attention away from the object of his affection and motioned for his friend to join him at the nearest pool table. Sonny and Jason watched the two men like hawks, frowning when another associate's nephew joined them for a game.

Bruno and his two friends were closer to Jake and Morgan now and occasionally glanced their way, particularly after a round of snickers. The two men visibly and ostentatiously ignored them, making a show out of looking bored as they finished off their drinks.

"How's the ELQ expansion going?"

"Really good," Jake nodded. "We're closing on a plot of land in the northwest suburbs of Chicago next week. Things are looking good."

"Why there?"

"It's in a corporate hub," he explained, "right by the McDonald's headquarters. We figured it was a good location."

"We?"

"Mostly Grandfather."

"He still controls business decisions like that?"

Jake shrugged. "Yes and no. I get his input all the time – he's only just become addicted to his Blackberry, and he gets a big kick out of it when I text or email him randomly during the day. About anything, really. So I tossed out some ideas based on what my finance team told me, and he picked Chicago. I didn't see anything wrong with it, so we made a bid on the property."

"Kind of far. You sure you won't be spreading operations too thin?"

"Nah."

Bruno was playing pool now and talking loudly. He was still being ignored. At the bar counter, Sonny and Jason were growing impatient and antsy. A few seats away, Amalia was popping peanuts and talking to Coleman.

"I've already got connections in Chicago," Jake explained. "Moved a portion of the coffee business there a while ago, expanding that, too. It's getting big, a little unwieldy. The market in the Lakes area will do us good. We're not quite seen as a chain yet, like Starbucks and Caribou, so that's part of our appeal. I'll be able to build a stronger ELQ base in the Midwest based on my existing connections. Plus, some of Grandfather's old friends moved there, so we have his connections, too. He's got a big network. It'll be fine."

"Good." Morgan finished the last of his whiskey and motioned for Coleman to put it on their tab. "You ready to go?"

Jake nodded and swigged the last of his beer. He'd have to tell Coleman to get more of it shipped in; it was a good brew. "Yeah. Let's go."

They got up from their seats, mindful of being watched on all sides, and headed past the pool tables and toward the door. Jake didn't feel like getting into trouble tonight. Bar fights were fun back in the day, like in college when it seemed like he couldn't enter one of the pubs around Yale without getting into it with someone.

It was even worse when he was in Cambridge to visit Amalia: a lot of the guys at Harvard didn't take kindly to his enthusiastic support of his school's football team, particularly after Harvard suffered a loss at the hands of the Yale Bull Dogs. Plus, they didn't like him because Amalia blew them all off and chose to date him instead despite the fact that he was a state away. He'd always come home from Cambridge bruised and with raw knuckles, but it had totally been worth it for the rush.

Now, though, he found he just didn't have the patience for it. He was getting older now, and he had a public image to manage. His wild ways had been more charming when he was the new partner in the Corinthos-Webber organization or when he'd first been named the heir to the Quartermaine legacy and fortune. The newspapers depicted him as the kid from the wrong side of the tracks who made good, but was still rough around the edges. He was the bad boy of the business world, attending galas and business meetings and handling acquisitions and mergers, and then tying on a few at night and getting rowdy.

That image wasn't one that he wanted anymore; that lifestyle didn't particularly appeal to him. The same could be said for Morgan; once he'd shed his father's company, his best friend had really turned things around. He used to be much the same way, spending most nights drinking at the bar or at parties, but now that he was making a name for himself in the legal world, he was far more careful. He told them it was because the legal field was such a conservative one, but Jake knew it was because Morgan was growing up, too.

Bruno was standing just a few paces away. And Jake had absolutely no intention of stopping to talk to him.

He'd almost left him behind and was on his way out when he heard his name.

"What's the matter?" When he turned around, Jake saw Bruno standing there with his arms out at his sides. "You don't recognize me? Don't you know who I am?"

He could feel Morgan shift behind him and sent his rival a bland look. "Why? Didn't your mother tell you?"

Bruno's dark eyes flashed, but Jake appeared unaffected and just shrugged.

"Sorry, _paisano_, I've been there. Can't help you."

Jason gaped at him, but Jake didn't pay him any mind as he turned smoothly, about to clear the last pool table and leave the bar and reckless, troublesome Bruno far behind. He figured the guy would try to make another pass at Amalia, but he trusted Chase. His top guard wouldn't let anything happen to her, and Jake didn't want to antagonize the hot shot any further by taking Amalia with him.

"Yeah, I know you can't help me. You can't help anyone."

Jake made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder just then.

"You can't even help yourself. That's why you are the sorry mess you are today."

He stiffened, his fingers curling into loose fists, but didn't turn around all the way and instead just called over his shoulder. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Jake, drop it," Morgan muttered, low so that only he could hear. "It's not worth it. He just wants to get a rise out of you."

"You're nothing," Bruno spat, his lip curling up at the side. "You think we don't know? You think no one knows? Everyone knows. Everyone knows what an embarrassment you are."

"Jake…" Morgan warned, resisting the urge to make his friend look weak by reaching out to grasp Jake's arm.

"Running around after an old man, leaving your own responsibilities to sit at his feet – tell me, Jake," the other man sneered, tilting his head to the side. "Do you wipe his ass for him, too?"

When Jake didn't turn around, Bruno just scoffed. "_Figlio de puttana._"

The word dripped with scorn and derision, and Jason's glare turned lethal. Next to him, even Sonny cringed. Amalia set her glass down with a hard smack on the counter, enraged at the sentiment, and for the first time ever, Bruno paid absolutely no attention to her.

"You follow him blindly, obey him without question. What happened to the strong leader of the organization that spit on the Families?" He let out a laugh, not seeing that Jake's shoulders were beginning to tremble with anger.

"You're nothing but a lap dog. And that's the funniest thing about this – no matter what you do, no matter how far you go, you will always be _exactly like your father_."

He barely had a chance to finish the sentence when Jake snapped. He turned on his heel as quick as a flash and before anyone could see it coming, landed a solid punch to Bruno's jaw that sent the man falling back into the barstools. Jake leapt at him, one hand at his throat and the other landing several swift, powerful punches to his kidney. When Bruno struggled, Jake bashed his head against the counter, unmindful of the blood on his hand and the cuff of his sleeve.

Jason and Morgan rushed forward at the same time to pull Jake off of Bruno before the incident could turn into manslaughter, but he was already besieged by the friends Bruno was playing pool with. They jumped on him from both sides and pulled him off of Bruno and flung him back.

His rival slumped to the floor, gingerly fingering the massive gash on his head, and Jake's back struck the pool table. He grasped it to stay upright and managed to catch his breath before the two other men turned on him again.

The other son of yet another associate leapt at him, but Jake was quicker. He grabbed the pool cue that sat on the table behind him and swung it, catching the man upside the head just before his fists could make contact. He cracked it over his back, sending him sprawling to the floor, and used the butt to jab the other man hard in the stomach.

The one on the floor got up again but his movements were just a step too slow from the earlier blow that Jake had landed. The pool cue swung through the air and came down on a pulse point at the shoulder, impeding his progress so that Jake could swing a solid punch to his nose and send him sprawling.

The other one was cracked on the head with the edge of the cue as Jake got better leverage; he was grabbed and slammed repeatedly down against the pool table that Jake had previously been pushed back into. He let go only when Jake was sure the man wouldn't come up again to attack him.

"Who's next?"

This was barked at the other men that had gotten to their feet when the altercation broke out, most of them associates or at the very least acquaintances of Bruno's. Jason just gaped at his son, unable to digest what had just happened right in front of him, while Morgan looked around the room, his head spinning with the details of the fight and the number of witnesses and how Kristina would get Jake off the hook if battery charges were filed and all of that.

If it had been any other bar and Jake had been any other nobody, the barkeeper would have tossed him out on his ass and told him to never come back. Coleman, however, was more than used to the spectacle of bar fights and would never have dreamt of tossing Jake out on his anything. As it was, he was standing by Amalia and munching on peanuts as he watched.

Jake glared around the room at the men, none of whom answered him, and flung the pool cue down by Bruno and his friends.

"That's what I thought."

And with that, he marched past Sonny and his father without sparing Jason a single glance, still trembling with anger. Morgan, looking grim, glared at Jake and almost appeared to shove him into the hall leading out to the front door to their car.

It seemed as if no matter how old he grew, Jake would never outgrow his desire to shed the image of his father.

It was just too bad for him that at times they were one and the same.


	77. Speechless Thoughts

**Note – **Yes, I know that New York's youngest mayor was actually a teenager, duh. I've taken license with this story, duh, and have erased that troubling little detail.

**Mean | 76**

_There's too much silence in your head  
Speechless thoughts and dead ideas  
Mingle, quietly  
There's too much silence in your head._

-- "Too Much Space," Hey Hey My My

**.: Harborview Towers, Penthouse #2 :.**

"I wonder who taught him how to handle a pool cue like that."

Jason rolled his eyes at Sonny's wistful question and hunkered down on the sofa. "I don't know."

"He really let them have it, though," his old friend chuckled, unable to keep from grinning. "Did you see how fast they went down? It was like something in one of those dumb ninja movies."

He pantomimed the motions with a wooden spoon he had in his wet bar, mouthing the sound effects, and Jason rolled his eyes. "I've gotta give him credit for his creativity: no one uses props anymore. It's just guns or fists, bam, bam, bam, down they go. Pool cue. That's…that's creative."

Jason gritted his teeth, sliding them back and forth, back and forth. "I guess."

Sonny let out a laugh, drawing the former enforcer's icy sidelong glare. "Oh, come on, it was good. And you have to admit, we haven't seen a good bar fight in a long time."

He gritted his teeth some more, certain that he'd have ground them into powder before too long. "I'd just prefer it if my kid didn't have the leading role in every recent bar fight we _have_ seen."

This time, it was Sonny's turn to roll his eyes. "You still moping about that? Come on, man. There's nothing you can do about it, there's nothing I can do about it. Jake's a grown man – he'll do what he wants and it's a little too late for his old man to try to give him the 'I'm very disappointed in you' talk. Because he's grown," he repeated, flustered a little when Jason shot him a dark look.

"He should have been arrested last night," Jason grumbled. "I'm glad he wasn't – really glad. But he should have been arrested and booked for aggravated assault and battery."

"He might still be." Sonny was still a little rusty in the whole 'cheering other people up' department. "I can't see Bruno letting this go without a fight. Unless Jake really embarrassed him…Then I can see him slinking off with his tail between his legs. Amalia was there last night – you think Bruno was acting up like that for her benefit? Hard to imagine she'd fall all over herself for him if he started a fight with another guy. She's a little smarter than that."

"Johnny will probably make it go away," Jason said slowly as it dawned on him. Of course, this was why they hadn't heard anything about Renato on the warpath for the way Jake busted up his kid. "Yeah, Johnny'll keep anyone from hassling Jake about it. And Kristina will keep the PCPD in line…and Coleman, he'd never roll over on Jake. That's why it's all been quiet…"

"He's got a good circle," Sonny agreed, finally walking over with their drinks. He passed Jason his whiskey, neat. "Kristina to get him out of trouble, Molly to keep him organized and make things go away, those two guards of his to get the work done, Spencer and Morgan to help keep up his legitimate front, Amalia to help with his position in society, his mother and brother to make him look grounded and accessible, and John Zacchara to fix things for him. Good circle."

Jason sighed and stared at his whiskey as Sonny downed half of his in a single gulp. That was probably the problem right there, just as Sonny had laid it out. Jake had a circle. A wonderful, tight-knit, highly effective circle of people that he trusted completely.

And of course, Jason was nowhere near it.

"He's a lot like me, isn't he?"

"Jake?" Sonny nodded without hesitation. "Oh, yeah. In everything he does. Like looking into a mirror that shows twenty years into the past, sometimes. Why?"

"Spinelli always says that."

"He's right," his best friend shrugged. "Everything he does, he does it like you, whether he knows it or not." He let out a half-sigh, a half-cluck. "Whether he wants to or not. Things are different, sure. He's more calculating. He lets himself get petty and vindictive sometimes, where you always kept things clean and cold. He pays more attention to his public image. He does that blogging thing that all the kids do these days. He makes sure he keeps his place in society and that he's seen out with the right people. You'd have shot yourself in the face before doing that. But the important things? The real things? Yeah, he does 'em exactly like you."

Jason looked up when Sonny started laughing all of a sudden.

"He even fights like you," the former godfather grinned mischievously. "Only his use of props is more creative. I'd pay to see you bust a few heads with a pool cue the way he did."

Jason sent him a heavy-lidded look and lifted his glass to his lips. "Shut up, Sonny."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Crimson Manor, Crimson Pointe :.**

"Are you sure?"

Amalia clicked her nails on the countertop as her mother entered the kitchen. Nadine set about pouring two glasses of iced green tea for the hot summer day, all the while listening in on her daughter's conversation.

"We can just go and hang out, shoot some pool," Amalia suggested hopefully. "We'll drag Anna along, see if Mal and Ceece can stop by. What do you think?"

Nadine slid a glass across the marble countertop (Claudia had new marble countertops put in every five years, even though she lived halfway across the world from her ancestral home) and watched Amalia frown.

"You sure?" She sighed and clicked her nails again. "Okay. Yeah, okay. I'll talk to you later. Bye."

She set down her phone and wrapped her hand around the cold glass, looking up to meet her mother's sympathetic eyes.

"Jake, huh?"

She nodded. "He doesn't want to go to Jake's."

Nadine scrunched her nose. "It's been, what, a week since the fight? He _still_ doesn't want to go?"

Amalia shook her head. "No. He's been moping about it since the fight happened."

Her mother shot her a confused look. "I've been wanting to ask…but why? Why's he moping about it? Jake loves getting into fights – especially when he knows he can win."

She laughed despite herself and slid her glass across the counter from one hand to the other, careful not to topple it, as Nadine watched. "You're right, he does love getting into fights. Especially at Jake's. Especially with guys he can't stand."

"Especially when you're in the audience," Nadine murmured, turning her eyes skyward when Amalia's pale blue eyes snapped up to meet hers. "What? I'm just noticing. He likes to show off in front of you. Don't tell me you've never noticed – _everyone's_ noticed. Well, except maybe your father. But he doesn't really notice things. I have to tell him."

"Thanks, Mom," Amalia drawled, rolling her eyes.

Nadine smiled and tilted her head to the side. "But, seriously…what's wrong with him this time?"

She pinched her lips together, thinking about it. "I think…I think, more than anything, he's just disappointed in himself. Like he was after that meeting with the Families when he made fun of Don Whoever's erectile dysfunction."

Nadine snorted a little as she sipped her green tea. "Oh, yeah. Your father couldn't stop laughing."

"He was disappointed then because they got to him," Amalia continued, "they really got under his skin and made him react in a way that he thought was petty and low. He wanted to go in there and be professional and show them that this was the way things were, and that he didn't care if they didn't like it. Instead, they called him out on trying to commit suicide and he made fun of their addictions and afflictions. And he just thought, when he got out of there, that he handled it all wrong and should have done better."

"Same about the fight?"

"Same about the fight," she agreed. "He and Morgan were just hanging out at the bar. I saw them when I walked in. They were just trying to sit around and talk without getting in anyone's face. And Sonny and Jason were there, practically breathing down their necks, and Bruno was there with a bunch of his friends, being a complete jackass, not that he needs an excuse…"

Nadine smirked.

"And he said all these awful things…" She cringed, remembering, and ran a hand through her hair. "He called him a son of a whore, and he said that everyone thought he was an embarrassment, and he said that all he did was wipe the ass of an old man that ordered him around all the time, and that no matter what he did, he'd always be just like Jason."

Her mother winced. "Ouch. He really knew which buttons to push."

"To be fair, Bruno already knows that Jake was the one that turned him in to the Feds," Amalia interjected. "He has every reason to hate Jake."

"Well, added to that reason, the fact that Jake's in love with you," Nadine noted innocently.

Amalia gritted her teeth. "He's never said that. And he never acts out in public in any way that would show that."

Her mother smiled gently. "You know it's true anyway. And I only see it between you two now because it took me so long to see it where your father and I were concerned. He was the same way – he didn't tell me anything about his feelings until several months after you were born, and you know how stiff he is when we're out in public."

Amalia smiled despite herself. "Yeah…"

"He and Jake are alike in that way, that's all I'm saying," Nadine added. "But I guess Jake's not as good as keeping things to himself, because Bruno's definitely noticed."

"I think it's more the fact that I just don't encourage him at all," she disagreed. "And that I've gone out of my way to show him that I don't want him around. I don't blame him for hating Jake and wanting to rile him up, but…boy. Like you said, he really knew which buttons to push."

She shook her head again. "He knew that Jake hates it when anyone says anything like that about his mother. I mean, he said something kind of similar – not nearly as bad – about her once or twice when he was drunk, but he'd never let anyone else say anything."

Nadine nodded, choosing to keep her mouth shut about her former friend. Her daughter already knew her feelings on the subject, anyway, so it didn't really matter.

"And he knew that Jake has this obsession with people thinking highly of him and paying attention to him and respecting him," Amalia continued. "Mainly because when he was a kid, he was passed over for a ton of things just because he was a Webber, and his mother wasn't anything special in this town, and they weren't rich or connected, and the whole time, he knew that if all those people that passed him over really knew whose son he was, they'd be bending over backwards to give him what he wanted."

"It was a tough thing to learn at such a young age," Nadine nodded, thinking back to Jake as she remembered him at six years old, a bright, happy boy that seemed to age and grow somber very quickly, as if overnight. "Not to be mean, because you know I love him, but we're all pretty lucky that he's only as screwed up as he is, that he pulled it together enough to be a functional person rather than…ruining his life completely."

Amalia paused, then nodded meekly. "I think the same thing all the time. And I guess he doesn't do that good a job hiding it, because Bruno called him out on it by telling him that everyone thought he was ridiculous. And he knew that Jake hates being called anyone's lapdog, but more than anything, he hates being compared to Jason. And he said he was _exactly_ like him."

"That's something he'll have to get over," Nadine murmured sagely. "I know it's not going to be easy, I know it's distasteful to him, but…Jake _is_ a lot like Jason. Even when he tries to be the opposite, he ends up being just like him. I'm not talking about the physical appearance – honestly, I don't know how Elizabeth thought she could ever keep that a secret, considering that Jake's a little carbon copy of Jason. But their attitudes, their demeanors, even their perspectives on things, they're just so similar. Jake's more social and outgoing and all of this society stuff_ matters _to him, but he has to see how he and Jason are always going to be alike."

"He ignores it," Amalia shrugged. "And when it creeps up on him, he acts out a little and does something that he thinks is the opposite of what Jason would do. He's so focused on being nothing like him that he loses sight of other things sometimes. And Bruno just went for the jugular."

"And Jake snapped."

"And Jake snapped and beat off a couple guys with a pool cue," Amalia confirmed. "And he hates that he let Bruno do that to him, that he lost his cool like that in front of everyone. He said it once – he was like, I'm getting older. I can't keep doing this shit. People expected it from me five years ago because I was new on the scene, and to them I was untested, I had things to prove, even if I didn't feel that way. But it'll wear thin, and no one wants to deal with a guy that's in a state of arrested development. You know how anal he is about managing his public image, how careful he is about what he lets get printed about him, the pictures he lets people take, the things he puts on his blog, what he says on television, all of that."

"He did this and saw all of his progress over the last few months go up in smoke," Nadine guessed.

"Pretty much. And he hates that he can still fall so easily for someone's attempts to get a rise out of him. And he's embarrassed by it. So he's moping around at home with Wolfe in his downtime, and he won't come to Jake's even though we've all _always_ hung out there."

She sighed and smacked her palm on the marble. "Stupid Jake."

"Jake?" Her father poked his head into the kitchen and, seeing both of his girls there, wandered on in. "Did I hear something about Jake?"

"He won't come out and play with the rest of his little friends," Nadine informed him pertly as Amalia rolled her eyes. "He's sulking in the tree house all by himself. Or, I guess, the Tree Manor."

Johnny laughed and swiped his wife's glass of green tea off the counter, not put off a bit by her stern pout as he drained it in a single draught. "What's he sulking about? The fight?"

Amalia nodded. "Pretty much. He's not so much sulking as reluctant to go back to Jake's since that was where it happened. Even though Bruno and his friends and all the other associates have already left town."

"About Bruno." Johnny's expression was serious now, and he ignored Nadine when she discreetly elbowed him in the side. Amalia tensed, becoming wary as she always did when her father mentioned other young men. "Oh, relax, I remember our deal."

She did relax, but only a little.

"How is he? Have you heard?" His dark eyes were somber and concerned. "I've talked to his father, but I didn't want to embarrass him by inquiring about Bruno's injuries. Is he badly hurt? How's his head? Jake really did a number on him, the poor kid."

Amalia's brows shot up. "You're taking up for Bruno? Seriously? You've known that guy for how long? You've known Jake all his life, if you remember. And honestly, Bruno was the idiot that started, Jake would have ignored him completely even _after_ he heard Bruno making fun of him all night, but Bruno had to go and try to be a big shot by calling his mother a-"

"Relax," her father interrupted, this time reaching over to steal her iced tea. "You get so worked up about everything. You're just like your mother. I mean, aunt!"

Johnny let out a relieved sigh when Nadine, who had been about to smack him, lowered her hand. "I was just asking because he could have gotten hurt very, very badly thanks to Jake's stunt."

Amalia's expression remained stormy. "Oh, yeah, Jake's such a bastard. Next time we see him, we should throw rocks at his head."

Her father rolled his eyes. He looked to Nadine for support, but she was also frowning at me. "Okay, obviously, I'm not being clear. I'm asking because Bruno could have gotten hurt very badly. And I can't ask his father, so I was hoping you'd know."

"First, I don't talk to Bruno," Amalia said, ticking the items off on her finger. "Second, I've changed my phone number several times so _he _can't talk to _me._ Third, not to be a bitch, but I don't care what happens to him. And fourth, I love how you don't care at all that Jake got hurt, too, or about the awful things Bruno said to-"

"Well, of course I'm not having a fit over Jake's injuries," Johnny scoffed. "You've seen him – he's got three inches on Bruno, easy. Also, his 'injuries,' as you call them, consist of nothing more than a small cut on his cheek and a black eye. Jake's not the one I'm worried about – he can obviously handle himself and has been able to handle himself for a long time. Bruno…he's reckless. He gets into trouble without thinking about who he's getting into it with. Jake probably would have let him off easier under different circumstances, but he was too upset to think clearly and nearly bashed his head open."

Johnny shook his head again. "I hardly ever worry about Jake like that. He's strong, and he's exhibited that he can, on occasion, show restraint. He actually showed some that night – he probably would have killed Bruno for those things he said, especially about Elizabeth. But he stopped himself and walked away, albeit after inflicting some serious damage."

He sighed and looked across the counter at his daughter, seeing that she was mildly surprised by his somewhat back-handed compliment. "…Suffice it to say that when Jake gets into a fight, it's usually the other guy I worry about."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Board Room, General Hospital :.**

Jake sat at the head of the long conference table, his rightful place as the Chairman of the Hospital Board, and slowly leaned back enough to prop his feet up on the corner.

The monthly meeting today had adjourned, and all of his fellow board members were long gone, out to enjoy a leisurely lunch on an unseasonably warm fall day. It was the first meeting after his unfortunate incident at Jake's with Bruno Adessi. Because Jake had his hand in local papers, the Port Charles newspapers and magazines didn't print that much about it. It had, however, made national news due to the notoriety of the two subjects. Thankfully, most news outlets had been unable to get the details of the events, probably because most witnesses to it were too intimidated to talk, and Bruno certainly wasn't going to appear on Larry King Live and talk about how he got his ass handed to him.

Jake had been worried about how his fellow board members would treat him after the incident, if all his progress with them was lost. In the end, he got a few cagey looks and a snide remark or two about aggression, but the rest didn't pay it any mind, and for that he was both grateful and relieved.

About three weeks had passed since the fight, and Jake was starting to see that it was blowing over just fine. He'd also strengthened in his resolve not to do something like that again. If the situation ever came up again, he'd take a page from Morgan's book and be smart enough to just walk right out of it. He didn't need the aggravation and public scandal that came with beating a guy's face in.

He'd gone back to Jake's two nights ago, so that was something. When Amalia had dragged him into the bar, he expected most of the patrons to stop what they were doing and just stare at him, silently wondering who he was going to pummel tonight.

But then, to his surprise, he found out that she'd rented the place from Coleman for the night and locked the regulars and tenants out of the main room, meaning they had the bar counter, the juke box, and the pool tables all to themselves. Foolishly, he'd been expecting his brother and Morgan and the girls to show up and join them, but when Amalia handed him a cue and casually suggested a game of strip pool, he realized that probably wasn't going to happen.

Jake smiled to himself, shifting a little in his seat as he remembered the events of that night.

Amalia had been on his arm, half-dragging him into the bar. He'd been so preoccupied with his reluctance the whole way over that he only barely noticed that she was wearing heels and white tights under a smoky, metallic gold trench. When she challenged him to the game of strip pool and he lagged the ball better than she did, meaning that he got to break, she lost the trench and he saw that she was wearing quite possibly the shortest little red dress imaginable underneath.

The rest of the game had been pathetic, because after a while, he simply stopped pretending that he was doing anything _but_ racing to lose. Amalia, dressed in nothing but lace-trimmed stockings, a little white thong and a matching bra, had laughed at him as he stripped down to his boxer-briefs after failing to send even one ball into a pocket.

He'd made love to her as many times as he could on top of the pool table that night, her hair fanning out over the green felt and her nails leaving raw marks on his back, any unpleasant memories from nights before held pleasantly at bay and unable to encroach.

And he supposed that had been her plan all along.

Jake was sure he had the widest, goofiest smile on his face as he remembered their exploits, and that was probably why his mother was looking at him strangely as she stood in the doorway of the massive conference room.

"Honey, you ready to go?" She tilted her head to the side, looking as if she wanted to know what he was so happy about. In the end, she probably figured that he wouldn't tell her anyway and kept quiet. "Your brother said he made reservations at the Grille."

Jake nodded as Cameron poked his head in and lowered his long legs to the floor. "Yeah, I'm ready, Mom. Let's go."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Port Charles Community Center :.**

Jake figured it was the most fitting place to watch the mayoral election results roll in: right in the community center that he and Morgan had built together. (He liked to leave out the part where they only built it after Morgan had been acquitted for the murder that Jake committed; thankfully, the newpapers in town liked to leave this fact out, too.)

So Jake coordinated efforts with Mal, who was a regular at the community center where he taught music classes and practiced with his band of mostly junior high school kids, and together they pulled things together the week before election night while Morgan was still involved with last-minute campaigning.

And tonight, everything was finally and the voting age crowd had turned up. There was an open bar for those over 21, and a good old-fashioned, all-American menu of hot dogs, burgers, chicken wings, and miniature apple pies and brownies for the whole crowd. The community center had been set up with all sorts of kid-friendly games for the 18+ crowd to enjoy: there was Skee-ball, air hockey, pool, darts, pin-ball, whack-a-mole (Jake had resisted the urge to tape a picture of Garrett Floyd to each of the moles), foosball, ping-pong, a state of the art stereo system with Jake's iPod set up to provide tunes for the night, and several 65" plasma televisions were set up throughout the whole center so they could all watch as the precincts reported in.

Morgan was a nervous wreck and didn't quite know how not to show it, so Jake and Amalia had enlisted Anna's help. Little cajoling was needed to convince the brunette to find Morgan and talk to him all night about the most inane things, effectively annoying the pants off of him and distracting him from his overactive nerves.

The place was crawling with reporters and photographers, naturally, so Jake and Amalia made it a point to be seen together as little as possible. Instead, Amalia spent most of her time with Cecily, since Molly was on her Bluetooth the whole time with her people at the precincts, and Jake spent most of the evening with Spencer, since Mal was busy with his little band kids as they played a few songs throughout the night.

Before long, it was time. The race was a close one, with many Port Charles citizens reluctant to move away from the long-standing incumbent and instead place their trust in a newcomer, and it was literally down to the last few polling places.

"All right, everyone." Michael, who'd made the trip in from London, was on the megaphone, his voice booming over the speakers throughout the center. Jake, who had helped coordinate most of the efforts tonight, insisted that his work on the campaigns and during the actual party be kept quiet so as not to influence people and hurt his friend's image.

"The last of the results should be coming through in the next half hour. Let's turn our attention to the monitors."

Sonny and Jason were at the bar, glasses of scotch in hand, and Elizabeth and Carly weren't too far off. Robin was with Alexis and Nadine, and Jax spent most of his time with Michael, happy that his oldest was home for the long weekend.

Morgan was starting out with a scant lead, and it began growing larger as the last of the precincts reported, and before long it was clear: Morgan Corinthos had won the local election and was the new mayor of Port Charles.

Jake was standing just a few feet away from him when the news first broke, and saw his best friend break out in a giant grin of disbelief. The room erupted with applause and Carly's enthusiastic, ear-piercing whistles, and when he looked over at Amalia and Cecily they were both hopping with joy as they clapped.

Morgan, still looking dazed and in disbelief, lost his step a little when Anna squealed and launched herself into his arms, wrapping him up in a tight hug (after all, Anna loved hugs). He picked her up and swung her around, and the very first photo taken of the new mayor was one of Morgan and Anna grinning, his eyes closed and his forehead resting against hers as she beamed up at him, her arms around his neck and slender fingers speared through his dark hair.

"_You heard it first here," _the anchorman was smiling, _"Morgan Stone Corinthos is the new mayor of Port Charles."_

~*~*~*~*~*~

_Later…_

Jake and Spencer's security details had gotten everyone to clear on out in the wee hours of the morning. The well-wishers left happy and full of food and drink, and the cleaning crews moved in to have the community center ready for the kids the next day.

Only Jake and Morgan remained, along with a bottle of aged scotch and a lone foosball table. It had been their game of choice at the pubs near the Yale campus, and they'd been playing for the past hour.

"I'm glad your stupid ass actually won and I didn't have to rig the damn thing," Jake grunted, managing to just barely keep Morgan from scoring. The ball was soon sent hurtling back at him and he grabbed at the other handle. "People actually like you. Go figure."

"Yup." The tip of Morgan's tongue poked out of his mouth as he concentrated. "…Thanks for keeping your head down during the whole thing."

"No problem," he assured him. "I know how hard you worked to get rid of the mob image. I wasn't going to ruin that for you."

"And thanks for all your help."

"Don't mention it." Jake glanced up at his old friend and almost paid for it when Morgan sent the ball ricocheting into his zone. "I was happy to do it. You wanted this."

"You didn't?"

"I wanted it for you," he said honestly. "Whatever you want to do, you should be able to get to do it. You sacrificed so much for me ever since we were kids, just so I could get to do what I do now. I'll never be able to repay you for that, so helping out whichever way I something I want to do."

"…We're on opposite sides now, you know."

"Well, obviously, asshole, table foosball isn't exactly a team sport."

Morgan sighed and snapped at the handle, sending the little row of men spinning wildly as Jake frantically tried to send the ball back and failed. "No, I mean, I'm in the mayor's office. You're…on the waterfront."

"On the waterfront," Jake agreed, sending the ball into play again, determined to score. "Sounds like an Otis Redding song."

Morgan laughed. "Yeah."

"Don't worry about the opposite sides thing," he finally said after they'd both been playing in silence for a little while.

"How can I not?"

"Because I won't do anything that will put you in a bad position or jeopardize your career," Jake promised.

Morgan snorted. "Right. You're going legit, of course. Gee, when you put it that way, I don't see how it can't work out."

Jake rolled his eyes. "No, no, I'm not going legit. Not for a long time. But…I'm going to keep it tame for the next two years. You know, keep my head down. If that means giving up a few local ventures, I'll give them up. No big deal. With Chicago and Vegas taking off the way they are, with the Coffee Shop and ELQ doing as well as they are, even in this economy, I can afford it. It's no big deal."

"What about security? What if it's not a matter of money, but your life?"

"I'll make sure it's handled," Jake promised.

"I don't want you risking your life or your safety just to keep me from looking bad," Morgan argued.

"I won't," he repeated. "Look, I can't tell you much, okay, so you're just going to have to trust me. I've made a deal with an associate who will take care of these things. Yeah, I'll have to outsource some of the, uh, work I do, something I've never done and don't really feel comfortable doing. But if I have to do it, I'm glad I'm doing it with this associate. It will all be fine."

"Carmine Mazza?"

Jake's blue eyes flicked up. "You know I can't tell you."

"I know," Morgan smiled, grinning mischievously as Jake heard the tell-tale clack. "I just wanted to score another point. Bam."

"Son of a…" Gritting his teeth, he put the ball back in play.

"Hey…why'd you say two years?" Morgan wasn't looking up at him this time. "Before, when you said you'd keep your head down for two years – why just two years?"

This time, it was Jake's turn to smile. "Oh, come on, man, you're underestimating how well I know you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he asserted cockily. "You're not going to keep this gig any longer than four years, and it'll be your goal to get out after two."

"And where am I going," Morgan challenged.

"Governor's house, duh," Jake grinned, managing to score a point when Morgan looked at him in surprise, amazed that he'd seen it coming. "That's what you've got your eyes on. Or a possible Senate seat. You think I haven't been watching you all these years, seeing who you've been working with, who you've been working for, who you've been taking out to lunch? You want to be the Governor, or you want to be a Senator. Either or fits in perfectly with your plans."

Morgan grinned, not even upset when his best friend scored another point. "Wow. I had no idea I was that transparent."

"You're lucky I've got it all planned out for you," Jake was saying with mock-solemnity. "So lucky."

"Yeah? Let's hear it, hot shot."

"Well." He spun the handles, focusing on the game. "We'll have to work our asses off, naturally."

"Naturally," Morgan agreed, playing along.

"You'll start work as the mayor. I'll keep my head down and together, we'll make it look like you're really cleaning up the town, getting rid of the mob presence. It'll work, because I'm focused more in the Burroughs now, anyway, and I'm moving a lot of operations to Ch- uh, other places."

"Right, right," Morgan said. "Other places of which I have absolutely no knowledge."

"Correct. While you're doing all that, you'll take things a step further than Floyd did. His mistake was that he got complacent. Your situation is that for you, this job is more of a stepping stone to where you really want to go. You'll start and join a ton of committees, get things working again in this town. Our boys at the papers will document every move. You're the youngest mayor in this town and, more importantly, you're the youngest mayor in New York history. We'll play that up as much as we can, make you look like the over-achieving do-gooder you are."

"Charming."

"Because of that, you'll speak at the caucus and the party's convention and make a big splash. You'll have to use your multi-cultural heritage, obviously, and you'll be declared the new Great White Hope – like I said, all the while playing up your Hispanic roots – and you'll be on your way. It'll be great."

Morgan chuckled, keeping Jake from scoring yet another point, and sent the ball into the goal. "Man, am I lucky you have plans."

"I always have plans," Jake smiled, tossing the ball to himself before putting in play. "You oughta know that by now."


	78. A Hold on My Heart

**Note – **To anyone who's been around long enough, like I have, to witness some of the more spectacular board wars over the years, Jason's schpiel during the Carmine discussion should be…amusing. :) Ha ha ha. Couldn't resist. I think I planned this part out shortly after one such, uh, board war. Hah.

**Mean | 77**

_Just know it was you, all along,_

_Who had a hold on my heart_

_But the demon and me_

_Were the best of friends_

_From the start._

-- "Revelry," Kings of Leon

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

"_Carmine Mazza passed away this morning at half past ten, eastern time." _

Jason barely glanced up at the grainy television. The CNN anchorman was just repeating the same story he'd recited almost exactly one hour ago. It wasn't news anymore – at least, not to them.

"_He was found in his Long Island home by his close friend and associate, Jacob Morgan, and preliminary reports state that he passed away in his sleep. No foul play is suspected. Carmine Mazza had no living relatives and the entirety of his estate passes to Jacob Morgan. Preparations for the funeral proceedings, CNN is told exclusively by Mister Morgan's spokeswoman, are underway."_

"I don't believe this," Sonny growled, running a hand through his graying curls. "I don't fucking believe this."

"I wonder what his net worth is now," Max snorted, looking incredibly tired. "I wonder if anyone can even count that high."

Jason was slowly shaking his head, almost rendered speechless in his disbelief. They'd all been this way since the news broke a few hours ago. "…All of it. He got _all of it_. Everything Carmine had…he left it to Jake."

"Every single damn thing," Sonny murmured in agreement. "The operations. The connections. The _money_, at home and abroad. The land. Fuck, all that land…His empire is-"

"The biggest in the country," Jason finished. "If there was ever a doubt before, there isn't now. Jake's empire is the biggest one in the country."

"He's got his hands in everything," Max agreed. "It wouldn't be so bad if Carmine owned all his land here. But, no, all of his routes and holdings are between the Atlantic states and the Midwest. He basically handed Jake a solid bridge between his property here and his property in the Midwest. His cartel covers _half the country_."

"He can connect it to his ventures in Vegas if he wants," Sonny pointed out. "The land there, it's cheap. Cheap for him, at any rate. He can get it for chump change, especially now that he has Carmine's land _and_ his name to back it up."

"Jesus Christ," the former bodyguard sighed, staring down at his beer. "He basically handed him the country, didn't he?"

"And no one saw it coming," Jason added quietly. "None of us saw it coming. We thought he was just using Jake, we thought he'd end up getting Jake killed."

"Remember how we told him to get out? God!" Sonny scrubbed a hand over his face. "Fuck. There goes any chance we had of him listening to us. Where is the kid? Have you seen him? I bet he's jumping for joy. Bet he can't wait to dance in here and rub our faces in it."

"I heard Cameron tell Elizabeth that Jake said he'd be back in town as soon as he could," Jason said. "It must have been shortly after he found Carmine's body. I think he has a lot of Carmine's papers with him here, so he wanted to come back to his place and make sure things were in order."

"I wonder how he got all of it," Max said absently, staring at the grainy television.

Sonny frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I know they said there was no foul play…" Max shook his head. "But, come on. Do you really think Mazza gave him all of his shit out of the goodness of his heart? Mazza was a ruthless son of a bitch, as big a jackass as they come. There's no way he just signed away everything to Jake for nothing."

"Don Ragno was saying the same thing," Sonny snorted. "I got a call from him about two hours ago, asking me what the hell was up with Jake getting everything and no one else being let in. He suspects foul play, even has his theories, but there's no way to prove it."

This interested Jason. "What did he say?"

"He said he was willing to bet that Mazza didn't pass on in his sleep at all." Sonny glanced around and leaned closer, lowering his voice so only Max and Jason could hear. "He thinks that Jake did it himself. Held a gun to Mazza's head and forced him to sign everything over. He thinks it was the shock of losing everything like that to a kid, and having a gun to his head when no one else would dare even look at him cross-eyed was what did Carmine in. He died from the shock of it. Jake pretends to discover the body, boom, says he died in his sleep, and there's no way to prove otherwise."

Jason knew better than to respond somewhat instinctively with, "Jake wouldn't do that." Those weren't statements one made likely in their line of work, and he had to admit that he knew his son was capable of similar things. It was simply how one got ahead in the business. Jason had even pulled similar stunts back in his day.

Now that he thought about it, he actually wouldn't put it past his son to do something like that. His gut reaction was that Jake didn't…but also that Jake _could_.

"Milo was saying something like that," Max nodded along, "only he wasn't thinking gunpoint – he was thinking that Jake poisoned Carmine."

Jason frowned. "Poison? How does he figure that would fit in?"

"Remember how the Family heads would make fun of Jake for even bringing Mazza his food?" Max waited until Jason remembered that little detail and nodded back. "Yeah. They used to make fun of him for bringing Mazza clam chowder every Friday like clockwork. Would it have been so hard to slip some poison in there? He's got Cameron in the hospital, he's got access to all sorts of drugs."

"Cameron would never slip Jake anything knowing that it would be used to kill someone," Sonny said before Jason had a chance to.

"I know that," Max assured them, half-rolling his eyes. "Cameron's a good guy, we all know that. Maybe Jake got the stuff from him and told him it was for something else. Or…maybe he just had someone get it using Cameron's name or ID or something. Or maybe he just picked Cameron's brain for an effective poison without the kid knowing about it."

"You figure that he poisoned Carmine's food and then told him he'd give him the antidote if he signed over all his stuff?" Jason asked.

"That," the former guard agreed, "or he caught wind of the fact that maybe Mazza changed his will, leaving Jake as the sole beneficiary, and then poisoned him before he could wise up and change it back."

"That was Don Quaranta's idea," Jason muttered, sitting back in the booth. "Got a call from him a while ago, and that was pretty much exactly what he said. Jake was the one that always met with all of Carmine's attorneys, too, and if Carmine ever wanted to meet with them personally, Jake scheduled it and sat in on the meetings. If anyone would know that he'd been named the sole beneficiary, it would be Jake."

"Don Sandoval was thinking blackmail," Sonny imparted sagely. "To me, personally, that makes the most sense."

"Blackmail? Really?"

"Think about it," he urged his former employee. "Who handles all of Carmine's operations? Jake. Who knows all of Carmine's men? Jake. Who does all of Carmine's dirty work? Jake. Who's got information coming to him about Carmine's every move? Jake."

"So you're saying that he went into this alliance with Carmine not like some naïve little kid, like we all thought, but planning to extort him the whole time?"

Sonny nodded. "He went in, probably laughing at all of us that said he was getting in over his head, and played Carmine from the inside. Played him like a fiddle. You know how anal he is about stuff – he probably kept notes and recordings about everything. And then he just waited, figured he'd bide his time. When he had something good, he used it. Said he'd hang Carmine out to dry unless he gave him everything he wanted. And then? That's it. Killed the guy. Made it look like an accident. Nothing new – we all know how to do that, so it looks like suicide or a car accident or an accidental overdose."

Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like discussing this, and he certainly didn't like thinking up all these scenarios about Jake. He was not disillusioned when it came to his son: he knew that Jake could be cold and calculating when he felt like it. He probably wasn't above any of the things that Max and Sonny had mentioned. It was the only way to get ahead in their world.

…But still.

That was his little boy they were talking about, his little boy they were accusing of gruesome murder. He didn't want to think about it.

"I think…"

Sonny arched a brow at him. "What do you think?"

Jason cleared his throat, treading carefully. "I think…that if Jake did anything-"

"Well, obviously, he did something," Max snorted, a little impatient with his former employer's naiveté when it came to his son. "Jason, come on. You know Jake. When he wants something, he goes for it, no matter who he has to mow down. It's pretty obvious that he coerced Carmine _somehow_ and got him to hand over all his shit. You can't deny that."

"I think," Jason continued firmly, "that if anything went down, it was a little more…white-collar than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Jake respects Carmine," he reasoned. "Respected. He didn't like him all that much, I don't think, but still, he respected him. When Johnny and I would talk to him about what an asshole Carmine was, Jake would always point out all the things he'd done throughout his career. He knew everything that Carmine had accomplished, could tick it off right in front of you."

"He was probably taking notes," Max huffed. "No one understood the meaning of 'bloodbath' like Carmine Mazza. Kid just wanted to learn from the master."

Jason ignored him. "He learned a lot from Carmine. You can see it in how his business practices changed over the past year. Not a whole lot, but just a little. Just enough."

"You're thinking about how he murdered the commissioner over in Ironvale," Sonny murmured.

He nodded. "That was textbook Carmine. Down to the last detail: the style of the murder, the people he placed to be there when it happened, the way he infiltrated in-house tech…well, not the in-house tech stuff. Carmine quit the racket and went into seclusion before the Internet became what it is now."

"I remember reading in the paper about that one," Max muttered, letting out a low whistle. "Horrible stuff. And you were there when Lucky started in on Jake about it."

Jason nodded again. "He always let us say what we wanted about Carmine, but Jake knew that he knew his stuff. It's why he figured it was an honor to run all his shit for him. Carmine had him doing everything – even bringing food to his house – and Jake never once complained. Why? Because even though he had to do menial stuff like that, he got to get his hands dirty with the big stuff."

"He was managing all the lawyers, the estate, the alliances, brokering deals," Sonny remembered. "He was basically…Carmine's right hand man?"

"He was basically Carmine," Jason corrected firmly. "He was given control of everything. Carmine put him through a bunch of tests and when Jake proved himself, he got to control everything. From what I got out of it, a lot of the time, Carmine had no idea what Jake was up to. Jake would do it and then report back later and let him know it was done. Carmine trusted him that much."

"So how does that tie in with the fact that the kid fucking got _everything_?"

"I think that what happened was that Jake already had control of everything, and what he decided was…just to take it." Jason shrugged when they stared at him. "What? It's simple. It's clean. He just gifted it to himself."

"It's despicable."

"Well, sure, but none of us got anywhere by being honest. Sonny, you got started in this whole business because you stole Frank Smith's territory. Everything that we had, we got only a small portion of it through honest deals and sales. The rest? We took. Jake did the same, he gifted Carmine's land and operations to himself and there wasn't a whole lot Carmine could do about it."

He cracked his knuckles and leaned back in the booth. "Look. Carmine's managing his empire, right? It's gotten bigger and bigger over the decades. He used to be really hands-on, used to participate in all the decisions, used to be down in there with everyone else. Then it got bigger, so he sat back a little. He started delegating. He put different people in charge of different things but they all reported back to him. Those people either left or they were taken down in the line of work, but he stayed where he was and didn't get involved again like he used to."

"They always did call him the Shadow," Max mused. "Indicative of his management style, to say the least."

"And then there's this kid who comes up, and he's young and he's smart and he's eager and he knows how to get people together and get things together and make it all work somehow," Jason argued. "He energizes people. He knows how to talk to them. He knows how to get them to like him, whether it's real or phony, doesn't matter. He's got everyone fooled that way. But say what you want about him, _he gets the job done_. And Carmine's been seeing that his business has been sitting there for years, just staying the way it is, and knows he can see it grow even more if he brings this kid in.

"So he tags Jake. He reels him in, brings him into the inner circle. It's just the two of them. He makes him jump through hoops and he sees that he can do it. So he tells him everything. He lets him sit in on meetings, he lets him handle the lawyers, he lets him see the bottom line in the books. Then he gives him control of everything."

Jason jabbed at the table with his index finger. "And that was the mistake. He gave Jake control of everything. The name. The operations. The people. The money. All equally important. What happens? Jake takes it. He wants it, he takes it. He has the power to do so, so why not? Carmine should have seen it coming. Even if he was alive today, he wouldn't have had the right to complain because he should have seen it coming."

"So Jake took all his stuff because he wanted it," Max allowed, "but what about Carmine? He just die of shock?"

"Jake might have helped him along," Jason answered slowly. "…Or they might be right. It might have been of natural causes. For all we know, Jake took everything over months ago, and Carmine knew it. Who's to say this just happened right now, right before his death? It could have happened months ago, and Carmine could have just passed away naturally."

"You'll always say shit like that because…he's…your…" Max trailed off and they saw him staring at another patron who'd just gotten up from his seat not too far away. Jason and Sonny turned slightly to see who it was and found themselves looking at Jake.

Empty beer bottle in hand, he tipped it at them in a lazy salute and continued to walk toward the bar. He stopped there to talk to Coleman, then nodded at him and turned away.

Jason gritted his teeth as he watched Jake walk away, and wondered just how much of that he heard.

Knowing his son, Jake had made it a point to hear all of it.

~*~*~*~*~

Jake tipped his empty bottle of Mystery Porter Brandy Barrel Aged Double Bastard (an incredible double IPA that he figured might have to be his next beer of choice, knocking even Oak Aged Dark Lord off the pedestal) at Sonny, Max, and his father on his way to the bar to talk to Coleman before heading out.

"Hey, there, little dude."

He'd always be a 'little dude' to Coleman, and Jake didn't mind that at all.

The barkeeper was polishing the last of the glasses for the next business day. "How'd you like the Mystery Porter?"

"Amazing," Jake replied, setting the bottle on the counter so he could dispose of it with the rest of the glass. "I might have to buy the brewery and set up distribution routes to here and Chicago."

"Like you did with Three Floyds?" Coleman asked knowingly. "I read the beer blogs, I know what's up."

Jake just grinned. "You should be happy: you'll make a killing selling it here."

Coleman stopped rubbing the glass. "You're serious?"

"I'll have one of my lawyers set up a meeting with you," he promised with a smile. "You can work out the terms then and I'll set it up to have Three Floyds brews shipped directly to your door."

"I'll line the shelves with them," Coleman promised, gesturing to the wall behind him. "You heading out for the night?"

"Yeah."

"Listen, I heard about that friend of yours that bit it," he said, shrewd brown eyes glittering. "That sucks. At least he trusted you to carry on his legacy."

Jake absently lifted a hand to his breast pocket, feeling the letter that was tucked away there. "He did. Thanks, Coleman."

"You have yourself a good night, little dude. See you tomorrow night?"

"Can't. I'll be in Long Island for the rest of the week."

"Of course you will," Coleman murmured, glancing up at the grainy television where CNN was once again airing the Carmine Mazza story.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He was about to set foot out of the main room and head home after a long day (most of which he spent in neighboring Massachusetts) when Jake almost collided with Amalia.

She was dressed in pale, pale gold, remarkably close to her trademark color, and he steadied her easily in his arms.

"Leaving?"

Jake nodded, his fingers lingering on her arms before she pulled away. "Yeah. Long day."

"I can imagine," Amalia murmured. She didn't say anything else.

He quirked a brow at her. "What? You're not going to ask?"

The corner of her mouth quirked up.

"You might as well," he said softly. "It's the question of the day."

Not one to beat around the bush, she went for it. "How did you end up with everything that Carmine Mazza ever built?"

Jake's blue eyes glittered harshly. "Everyone's overthinking it, when it was really very simple."

"Oh?"

"I put a gun to his head and told him I'd blow his brains out if he didn't sign on the dotted line. Then I blew his brains out anyway."

Amalia rolled her eyes. "Jake, be serious."

That self-deprecating little smile was back in place and Jake slipped his hands into his pockets, heaving a heavy sigh. He hadn't yet processed the fact that the man he'd spent the overwhelming part of the last year with had passed on, and absently wondered when it would hit him.

"I didn't do anything. All I did was sit and listen to a lonely old man who had absolutely nothing in this life."

"Well…" Amalia flipped a long lock of hair away. "He had his name. And his estate. And his money. And his power."

"Nothing that really mattered," Jake insisted, surprising her, since those were the things he'd raced to get his whole life. "He had no wife, no family, and all his friends died. And they weren't even really his friends. Some of them he paid to stick around, the others stuck around because they were afraid of him, and others just stuck around so they could turn on him. That wasn't any sort of a life."

He shook his head. "Carmine wasn't wanted – really wanted – by anyone around him until he had something they needed or wanted. And then he was the one they turned to, the one they listened to, the one they bent over backwards for. He died this morning and he left me with everything – probably because he knew that if he did that, it would screw me up for a little bit, and he loved that. Thought it was funny."

Amalia was watching him closely. "You really don't know why he left it all to you?"

Jake shrugged uneasily and patted his breast pocket. "He wrote me a letter. His chief legal counsel had it. I didn't even know it existed. But he wrote me a letter and told his lawyer it was about the contents of his will, so it probably says in there."

"You haven't read it," she guessed.

He shook his head. "I…haven't read it. Not yet."

She nodded slowly, seeming to understand, but still didn't say anything.

Jake shifted restlessly, letting out a sigh that was a half-growl. "Look, I'm not trying to white-wash history. I know exactly who Carmine Mazza was. Better than most people, really. I know all of the things he did. He was a ruthless, heartless, despicable, _cruel_ son of a bitch and it's no wonder that no one wanted to be around him. He stopped at nothing to get what he wanted and he ended up driving away anyone that gave a damn about him to the point that he had to threaten and bribe people to spend time with him, but…"

"…But?" Amalia pressed.

He shrugged helplessly. "There was something that tied me to him."

Her large blue eyes shone with understanding as Amalia sagely asked, "Was it how easily you could see yourself being Carmine Mazza twenty years from now?"

Jake stared at her and only sucked in a quick, shallow breath when he realized he wasn't breathing. She just gazed solemnly back at him and after a long moment, he kicked himself into motion and moved past her, half-stumbling out into the darkness and gulping in the night air.


	79. No One Measures Up

**Note **– At Ali's urging, I'm including my take on the old Hit & Run. For the fainter of heart: Liason take a little bit of a bruising in this situation. Well, Liz does. Kind of. Jason, not really. In fact, Jason does pretty well, and Jake seeks him out for help, etc. Just be forewarned.

And if anyone thinks that Jake's alternative treatment is coming as some sort of a surprise, go back and reread the old chapters. I lay breadcrumbs for everything, dears. ;-) I force myself to, and I'm proud of that.

**Mean | 78**

_It's not like I need somebody_

_Telling me where I should go at night._

_Don't worry, you'll find somebody_

_Someone to tell how to live their life._

'_Cause you're so perfect_

_And no one measures up._

-- "Everything I'm Not," The Veronicas

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

God, how he wished Carmine Mazza were still alive.

Not because he genuinely missed the guy or anything; even his death didn't whitewash the man and his actions and his life as far as Jake was concerned. No, he was rather glad that he'd never have to see Carmine's wrinkled face again, or feel his liver-spotted hands on his, or be cuffed on the neck for saying something that inexplicably struck the old man as stupid.

But if Carmine Mazza were still alive, Jake wouldn't have to deal with all this bullshit, and after spending five consecutive days in non-stop meetings with lawyers, he was about to put his fist through the damn wall.

The lawyers themselves weren't that bad. Morgan had always wanted to be one, so Jake had never really subscribed to the lowest common denominator jokes about those that were part of the profession. Plus, because of Morgan, he generally knew how to deal with lawyers, which was a big help. All they asked was that he know what he was talking about, answer their questions honestly, and not ask stupid questions, a standard that Jake was more than capable of meeting.

Besides, most of these men were Carmine's lawyers and, as such, had been part of his own extensive fleet of lawyers. He had managed every single aspect of the old man's estate, after all, and had come to know a lot of Carmine's men even better than Carmine did in his old age. Carmine's lawyers were just fine; Jake had worked with them for almost a year. This was the first time, however, that all of them had to work with Kristina on this entire project, and some of the senior attorneys didn't like the fact that Jake placed more trust in his young female attorney than he did in them.

That couldn't be helped, though; Jake would always trust Kristina and her expertise more than anyone else similarly situated. In fact, he'd trust her with his life, as he often did when he relied on her to either get or keep him out of prison.

No, what really made this whole situation unbearable was the fact that there was just so much to be done. It had been a week since Carmine's funeral, which Jake was in charge of putting together, and they'd been at it ever since.

He'd known all the while how large Carmine's empire was, but it had never really hit him until all of it fell in his lap. Sure, he'd worked in all different sectors of the organization when Carmine had him running it and he was familiar with all of it, but now that it was all sitting there, ready to be consolidated and restructured so that it could be properly (and only visibly-legally) be merged with his existing empire, Jake really saw just how powerful the man was, how much he had amassed…

…And how screwed he himself was in trying to get a handle on all of it.

Molly had been indispensable, naturally, which came as no surprise to anyone. Johnny, too, had sensed that Jake might struggle with the mass of new acquisitions and had offered not only his legal, business, and financial team, but also his personal help, which Jake found to be invaluable.

Even Jason had offered his help, and Jake knew he had to jump on the opportunity. As much as he often couldn't stand the man, he wasn't dumb: Jake knew enough about Jason to know that back in the day when he had his own empire to run, his father was terribly shrewd and ran the tightest ship around. Organization was his strong suit, and he knew how to get things together and make them work.

In fact, Jason was supposed to be coming over later that night to help Jake with the rest of the articles of incorporation. Carmine had parent and subsidiary companies set up throughout the mid-Atlantic and the Midwest, with one or two parent companies just north of the border from where they were in New York, settled comfortably in Canada. That meant there were tons of legal issues that Jake had to grapple with: mainly, he needed to have a handle on the locations of all his headquarters for the different parents and subsidiaries, the states in which the companies were all incorporated, and the states where the principle business was done, which could only be discerned after careful analysis of earnings and profit reports.

That was what Jason would be helping him with tonight. Jake knew his father had an eye for numbers and wasn't above taking advantage of it.

It would be the third time that the man had come to Morgan Manor since Carmine's death; if they kept it up this way, he'd feel like just another friendly face stopping by, and Jake wasn't comfortable with that. At least they had the business as a buffer against personal conversation. That was the only way he could stand it.

His father was due over in about an hour, which gave Jake enough time to shower and change after he kicked all of the probate, estate planning, and corporate lawyers and financial planners and business advisors out and sent Kristina home in one of his cars.

Jake was back in his office with plenty of time to spare, which was just how he liked to do things. After pulling out all the files he needed for him and Jason to pore over for the next several hours, he buzzed the kitchen to let his cook know that there needed to be two places set at the table for dinner tonight. If Jason was going to be at his house during normal dinner hours, he figured the least he could do was actually serve him.

If he was lucky, he could knock out the rest of this in another day or two. Damn good thing, too, because he was about to go out of his mind. It had been days since he'd seen Amalia last, and he'd only managed a quick phone conversation or two with Morgan. All he wanted to do right now was put all this shit away, go grab a beer with his best friend, and then meet up with Amalia for a late dinner and an early breakfast.

A knock on his door had him glancing up from the complex intercom system. "Yeah."

"Mister Morgan?" A junior guard with blonde hair poked his head into the office. "Sir, your mother's here to see you. We have her waiting in the parlor."

Jake closed his eyes momentarily and nodded. "…You can bring her in here."

He'd made it a point a very long time ago to never let her into his offices, but today he had so much to get together before Jason got here that he didn't want to sit around in the guest parlor. Hopefully, whatever it was that his mother needed wouldn't take long.

"Hi, Mom."

She smiled so sweetly at him that Jake instantly felt bad for wanting to hurry her out the door. He felt some of the tension melt from his shoulders and set down the files, treating her to a more genuine smile and his full attention.

"What's up?"

Elizabeth was already moving around his desk, her hand reaching for his face, and Jake blinked when she grasped his chin and made him look down at her. "You don't look so good. Have you been eating right? Sleeping?"

"I'm fine, Mom." He leaned down and kissed her, laughing when she very lightly smacked his cheek.

"The beard looks good on you," she noted, studying the thick, sandy five-day-growth on his face. "You should trim it, though. It's getting long."

"I know," Jake sighed, rubbing his jaw as his mother leaned against the side of his desk. "I haven't really shaved since the funeral. Thought I'd let it all grow out for a bit. I should probably make an appointment with my barber…"

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. "You have a barber? Who has their own barber anymore?"

Jake grinned. "Sometimes a guy just wants a straight razor shave. It's close, lasts for days."

"Hm." She thought about this. "I'll have to tell your father about that. He hates shaving, but he's convinced he'd look awful with a beard."

He didn't say anything at her casual name drop. Jake knew that his mother and father were living together now on a semi-permanent basis. There was very little about their lives that he didn't know, due mostly to the bodyguards that patrolled Cherry Blossom Lane and kept all the families safe. He had to figure that his mother was casually dropping his father's name in conversation just to warm him up to the idea that they were once again a part of each other's lives.

He didn't take the bait.

"Did you need something, Mom? Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," she said, reaching into her purse. "I actually came by to bring you these pamphlets from the hospital. There's this new drug that Patrick and Robin have been pushing through trials, and the results are really looking good."

"Yeah?" He took the information from her and glanced down at it. "What kind of drug?"

"It's for cluster headaches, like yours," Elizabeth said brightly. "And tension headaches…like yours."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers quickly. "Oh…"

"I know we haven't really talked about it," she allowed quietly. "But…back when you had the aneurysm, Cam mentioned that he'd prescribed you higher and higher doses of painkillers for your headaches. And you were taking them after, too, when he and Morgan came by the house and-"

He really didn't want to talk about the night that he stupidly mixed up his prescription and his liquor and had a bad reaction to it. "I appreciate it, Mom, but I don't really need these. It's probably not something I'm going to look into."

Elizabeth arched a brow pointedly at him. "Do you still get headaches?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then don't you think you might at least want to _talk_ to Patrick or Robin about the new medicine?"

Jake shook his head. "You didn't let me finish. I still get headaches, but nowhere near as often as I used to. And…I'm already seeking treatment for them. I have for a long time."

Elizabeth's brows furrowed. "Cam didn't mention…"

"I'm not seeing Cam."

She blinked at him. "…But he's your brother. And a doctor. You've always seen him when you needed, er, help…"

He knew she was referring to all the times he got stabbed or shot. "I don't see Cam anymore for prescriptions like that. For…anything, really. I have my own doctors. I don't want him involved in anything that could get him sanctioned or jeopardize his license or standing."

Elizabeth licked her lips, not wanting to respond directly for that. "So…you get the Vicodin from somewhere else?"

After all, he kept entire baggies of cocaine in his house; it would presumably be very easy for him to get a hold of Vicodin.

Jake just shook his head. "No. I quit using that the night I wound up in the hospital again. Cam wanted to wean me off; he thought I would go through withdrawal."

Her sober blue eyes met his unflinchingly. "Did you?"

"Yes," he said honestly. "But I didn't tell him that. I had chills and shakes and nausea for a week; thankfully, I wasn't dependent to the point that it was any worse than that. After getting clean, I sought alternative treatment."

Elizabeth was listening intently and tilted her head to the side. "Meaning?"

"I talked to Grandfather about it." Jake slipped his hands into his pockets, remembering that lonely night in the hospital when he woke up from a nightmare every hour, drenched in cold sweat, like clockwork. "He figured out what had happened and visited me. I don't know if he believed what everyone else did, that I tried to kill myself. But he thought I was an addict, I'm pretty sure he did. He told me that Alan went through a really bad addiction and that Uncle AJ did, too. He was pretty sure that at one point or another, Jason did, too."

Elizabeth scoffed, but Jake continued before she could say anything.

"He told me that he wanted me to get myself better and that he'd always be around. When I got past the nausea and the shakes, I spent the day at Quartermaine Manor with him and he recommended that I go see his acupuncturist. I set up an appointment and I've been getting weekly treatments done since. They've really helped a lot."

Of all the things he could have said, that was the absolute _last_ one Elizabeth expected. "You're seeing an acupuncturist?!"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "It's been going great. He's been hounding me to start yoga for a while, too, and, I don't know, I guess I'm kind of thinking about it. Anna's into that sort of thing and she swears by it, and she's been trying to drag me to one of her classes for a while now, so…something to do if I ever find the time."

She glanced down at all the papers and files on his desk and managed a lop-sided smile. "You've been pretty busy since last week, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," Jake groused, flopping down in his chair. "Lots to do. Lots to do…"

He didn't go into any further detail, not wanting to have another conversation about the late Carmine Mazza, and Elizabeth didn't press him, even if she would have liked to. Instead, she set about tidying up the corner of his desk like any mother would have wanted to.

"I don't know how you work with all this clutter."

"Not clutter, Mom," he muttered, sounding bored as he looked through his papers. Had he been watching her, he would have seen that she was actually touching things on his desk and would have stopped her. After all, he couldn't have her seeing anything sensitive. This was why he never let anyone in his office. "All piles. Piles and piles and piles of paper…Don't touch those."

She yanked her hand back even while defending herself. "I wasn't. I was just going to fix your magazines."

"Oh." Jake picked up the file that had information about the newest target for Chase to assassinate and moved it to the other side of the desk, as far away from her as possible. "Okay. You can toss those into the recycling bin if you want. I'm done with 'em."

Elizabeth nodded and swept up three copies of TIME magazine, dropping them in the wicker bin like he'd asked. The most recent copy of _The New Yorker_ and _Forbes _quickly followed, and she was about to toss away a few New York society magazines when a picture caught her eye.

"What's this?"

"I don't know," Jake murmured without even looking up as he got his work in order.

Elizabeth pursed her lips as she stared down at the photograph, a paparazzi shot that looked as if it might as well have been staged. It was a glossy 8x10, shot at night with an illuminating lens: a picture of Jake dressed in a tux outside of a majestic building, Claudia Zacchara on his arm.

She held it up and leveled a firm look at him. "…It's you and Amalia's aunt."

Jake was had one hand in the pocket of his black trench, appropriate for autumn nights in Italy, and the other he held out to Claudia. She had her arm hooked through his and was dressed all in black with a matching fur capelet, grinning her familiar and unnerving Cheshire Cat grin at something he was saying.

He glanced up quickly and then back down at his papers, not looking at all concerned. "Oh, yeah."

"What were you doing with her?" Elizabeth demanded. "When was this taken?"

Jake was still not giving her his full attention as he began stuffing the piles into manila folders. "Uh…I want to say, about three weeks ago?"

"What were you two doing?"

"I was in Milan," he said, sounding bored and distracted. "She dropped by my house there and wanted to go out. So we went to dinner and then to _La Scala_ for a late showing of _Aida_."

Finally, he looked up and saw that she was gaping at him. "…What?"

"I know you love Amalia's family," Elizabeth said slowly, her shoulders tense and hand gripping the magazine tightly, "but Claudia Zacchara is…She's…She's awful, Jake!"

Jake shrugged and went back to stacking up the folders. "I like her. Always have. She's always been great to me."

"She's a horrible woman," Elizabeth spat. "She's dangerous."

He smirked and glanced up at her quickly, for the briefest of moments. "…Maybe that's why the two of us get along?"

Elizabeth ignored that. "She's a vicious, ruthless woman who mows down anyone in her path. She manipulates people and she gets them hurt and she stops at nothing to get what she wants, even if it means getting someone killed or ruining innocent lives. She's a terrible, terrible person."

"She's hilarious, and I always have a good time whenever I see her," Jake stated plainly. "I realize that your experiences with her are probably different, but ever since I was a kid, she always talked to me and treated me well and paid special attention to me. Being around her is just like being around Johnny or Nadine. She's just part of the family."

Elizabeth's skin nearly crawled at the way he said that, even though it was just the Zacchara family he was referring to. "She only paid special attention to you because she knew my secret about you all along."

Jake stopped shuffling papers.

"She knew that Jason was your father," she hissed. "God, she was the one that told Johnny and Nadine in the first place – and they didn't even warn us. They could have told me and your father that she knew all of it, and we would have-"

"I don't want to have this conversation," Jake interrupted tersely. "It's a little too late to discuss all the brilliant decisions you _would have_ made."

But Elizabeth wasn't about to stop. "She only paid attention to you like that because she was taunting us," she insisted. "She knew you were Jason's son. She wanted to get close to you – to show us how close she could get. Why do you think I never let you go over to their house when she was in town? Because I didn't trust her – and I had good reason not to."

He rolled his eyes, wondering how much room his mother really had to talk about trust.

"I was right," Elizabeth got out between gritted teeth. "Claudia Zacchara is bad news. She would have thought nothing of kidnapping you – or killing you – if it meant she could get the upper hand on Jason. She would have gladly hurt you or me or Cameron to get back at him. We were all just so lucky that Johnny kept her from doing anything all these years…"

Jake smacked a file down on the desk and finally looked up at her. "You know absolutely _nothing_ about Claudia's motivations for staying quiet. Absolutely nothing."

Elizabeth raised her brows. "And you do?"

"Would I be saying any of this if I didn't?" Jake replied testily.

"Fine. What were her motivations?"

"You know better than to ask me that," he scoffed. "It's not like I'm going to divulge that information. And you know, Mom, really, you should be thanking her for these past thirty years. She did a better job of keeping your secret than even you did."

Elizabeth's face was growing red. "She-"

"She made sure that no one else found out about my paternity," he told her in a carefully measured tone. "When it was just you and Jason keeping the secret, you two almost took out a page in the _Gazette_. You only hate their family because they didn't have the decency to let you know that they knew what you did. I'm not going to bother pointing out how hypocritical that is. If you want to hate Claudia Zacchara, you're more than welcome to. You're hardly alone in that camp, and I know you have good reason."

He drew himself to his full height, tired but firm, making his message clear as a junior guard appeared at the door. "But I happen to like her. I happen to admire certain things about her. I happen to enjoy her company. And the days when you could tell me who to associate with are long, long over. We had this same discussion about Carmine, rest his soul; I'm not interested in having it again. Thank you for bringing the information over. If you'll excuse me, I have a long night ahead of me."

Elizabeth gaped at him even as his guard moved forward to escort her to her car, and she pulled away at the last second and stormed out of the room. Jake didn't even flinch when the front door slammed.

He didn't like being rude to his mother; however, he liked it less when she decided that she could still dictate any aspect of his life.

It was a very, very good thing that his mother was never invited to any of his business functions with his less-than-legitimate associates. She'd probably require all of them to submit to a background check before she let them play in the same sandbox as him.

Jake let out a disgusted snort and got back to work. In about twenty minutes, he'd managed to get everything in order for his meeting with Jason, and not a minute too soon. While he wasn't disorganized at the moment, he just had too many things on fire in front of him at the moment. And he didn't want to appear inept in any way in front of his father; he couldn't afford that.

Another knock on his door.

"Yeah?"

"Sir." The junior guard poked his head in. "Jason Morgan just arrived. Shall I bring him in?"

Jake shook his head. "I'm coming."

The guard disappeared with a nod. Jake took one more look at his desk, making sure everything was on hand. Satisfied, he put it all together in a very tall stack and moved it over to the large conference table in his office, setting it all out so it was arranged in an easily accessible manner.

Finished, he quickly rounded the table and left the room, heading out into the hallway that curved around and led into the grand foyer. Jason was standing there by the door, uneasily handing Briarly, the butler, his leather jacket as Wolfe came trotting up. Jason had never had a butler in his life and Jake could tell he still wasn't used to the idea that anyone would.

He walked up to him as Wolfe barked and butted the backs of Jason's knees. His dog had growled and snarled like a hound of Hell the first few times Jason came over, but as the two of them collaborated over the Carmine acquisitions more regularly, Wolfe got used to him and realized that he wasn't a serious threat.

Jason absently reached down and patted Wolfe awkwardly on the head, having already spotted Jake. He offered him a tentative smile as Jake came up to him.

"Wolfe, down," he ordered, pointing his index finger at the dog and then away to his left. He didn't spend all that money on those fancy German dog trainers for nothing. At the command, the Irish wolfhound immediately stopped head-butting Jason and looked up at his master, wagging his tail. "Sorry about that."

"No big deal," Jason shrugged, watching as Jake patted his thigh, causing Wolfe to rush up to him and bump his side affectionately.

"He's had an exciting day," he murmured, letting his dog dive between his legs before grabbing his collar. "Come on, boy, you wanna come with us? You have to be good, though."

He straightened to his full height and tipped his head, motioning for Jason to follow him to his office. Wolfe trotted along loyally behind as they made their way through the house. Jake let them in and gestured for Jason to have a seat at the conference table.

Jason lowered himself into a leather chair, already studying the different files laid out in front of him, and bit his lip. "This everything?"

"Everything for tonight," Jake affirmed from over by his handsome oak cabinets. He pushed the button for the discreet cooler that was camouflaged with the rest of the décor and pulled out two frosty bottles of beer.

"You'll notice in front of you the incorporation articles for each corporation and subsidiary," he started as Jason pushed up the sleeves of his sweater and pulled out his glasses. His father's eyesight wasn't as good as it used to be, but Jake knew he didn't like to wear glasses out in public. "Next to that, sales reports and earnings reports, separated and color coded for each corporate entity. And after that-"

"Forecasted trends," Jason finished, scanning the files with his brows furrowed. "Past trends, and previous litigation. You really pulled up everything."

Jake shrugged and walked around the table to sit right across from him, setting the bottle down in front of Jason after having cracked it open. His father reached for it absently, already familiar with their routine, and kept his eyes trained on the pages.

"We needed all of this," he replied. "It was easy enough to get. I started having Carmine's financial team put all this together almost as soon as I started working with him. He'd run the business for so long that he didn't need this information; he knew it all somewhere at the back of his mind. I needed to learn it; I needed tangible reports."

"Makes sense." Jason took a sip and squinted down at the label. "What is this?"

"You don't like it?"

"No, I like it," he said. "But…what is it?"

"Barley John Wild Brunette."

"Full mouthfeel," Jason murmured, taking another sip and enjoying it slowly. "Sweet, too."

Jake nodded. "You should see it in a glass – really lacey brew."

They sat together for a few minutes, just sipping the beer.

Jake glanced at his watch, making the corner of Jason's mouth curve down. He reached for one of the files his son had laid out, awkwardly clearing his throat.

"We should probably get started," he sighed. "I don't want to keep you up too late…"

Jake just shook his head. "Nah, no worries. I could go all night if I had to."

Jason didn't even want to think about what substance was giving Jake his endless energy this time around.

"I figured I could walk you through all of the subsections," he started, stretching a little in his seat before gesturing to the files, "and then you could take me through your thoughts beat by beat before dinner, and afterward we'd just get right into it."

It was the first time Jake had invited him to stay for dinner, and Jason foolishly balked at him for a minute. They usually met earlier in the day and Jason was out the door before that time. He honestly hadn't expected Jake to make the offer.

"Dinner?" He fought the urge to once again clear his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, sure, sounds good."

"We're having pot roast," Jake murmured absently, gathering up the different folders that held the articles of incorporation for all of his new firms. "Hope that's cool."

Jason nodded slowly, just watching his boy across the table. "Yeah, that's fine."


	80. You Really Got Me

**Note – **In case it wasn't clear, the hit and run is coming. It will involve an actual car, not verbal sparring. It's coming up in a couple chapters, I think. I just mentioned it in (78) because I had recently decided to include it and just wanted to shout it out.

This one is for Amber. You've waited a long time, dear.

**Mean | 79**

**(NC-17)**

_Girl,_

_You really got me going._

_You got me so I don't know_

_What I'm doing._

-- "You Really Got Me," The Kinks

**.: Behind Kelly's Diner :.**

"Yeah, I just had lunch with Anna." Jake glanced at his watch, knowing that by now, the hit would be completed and that his alibi would have worked. "Good, glad to hear it. Wasn't anticipating you'd have any trouble with that, anyway. I'm heading back to the house now; have a few more meetings with the lawyers."

"Jake?"

He whirled around, eyes wide, and found his mother standing on the steps. Within seconds he was composed again and offered her a small, crisp smile.

"Yeah, no, I'll let you go. Everything's fine on my end. I appreciate the concern. See you next week."

It was important for Penn to lay low for a while, just in case. His loss would be tough, especially considering just how much work needed to be done, but he and Chase had done an excellent job training lower guards. Things would be just fine.

Jake slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked up at her. "Hi, Mom."

Elizabeth watched him solemnly, knowing that it hadn't been an innocent phone call from a friend he'd just taken, but she didn't want to know anything else about it. Not that he'd ever tell her.

"What's up?"

She came to a stop a few feet away from him, concern etched into the lines of her face. They hadn't spoken since a few days ago when she found a picture of him and Claudia out and about in Milan.

"No one's seen you around in a couple days."

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out again, glancing down before deciding he didn't want to take the call. "I've been busy."

"…Are things better now?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "There's still a lot to be done."

"Is it true what they're saying?" Sober blue eyes bore into his. "That you're being sued?"

Jake scoffed. "I'm always being sued, Mom."

"Jake…"

"What?"

She bit her lip in frustration, hating that their conversations had been so stilted for so long. "Are you in trouble?"

"I'm never in trouble," he replied haughtily. "You're only in trouble if you can't find a way out."

The light in her eyes dimmed and Jake sighed, electing to revise his response. "And no, I'm not in trouble. I'm not being sued personally. Someone just brought a products liability suit against one of the ELQ subsidiaries."

That seemed to release some of the tension in her shoulders. "Oh. Oh, is that what's going on? That's okay, then – Edward can-"

God, how he hated her often over-simplistic, trapped-in-the-past view of things. "Grandfather doesn't have any control of the company anymore. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't do anything. He's no longer a legal representative of the company and can't elect to intervene."

For some reason, this seemed to disappoint Elizabeth. "Oh. Are…are you going to be able to handle it?"

Jake nodded. "It's a non-issue. My lawyers are handling it, I don't even have to show up if I don't feel like it. Good thing, too, because I have to head back to the house and get more work done."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "If you've still got so much to do, why were you having lunch with – Never mind."

He smirked to himself, knowing she'd figured out that he probably needed an alibi. That was one thing about his friends: none of them minded being used as alibis. They never took the slightest bit of offense. Granted, it looked a little suspect if he used Kristina or Molly as his alibis, since they worked so closely with him. And Jake knew never to use Morgan as his alibi just because he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his friend's career or tarnish his image in the least. As for Cameron, Jake knew how he felt about the business: he accepted that Jake was a part of it but he still didn't like it. Bearing these concerns in mind, Jake didn't include him in his alibi pool simply out of respect. He didn't want his brother to feel cheap that way.

As for Cecily, Mal, Anna, Mike, and Spencer, none of them minded. Hell, half the time, Spencer was using him for an alibi, too.

"Jake!"

They both turned around and saw Anna trotting down the planks toward him, holding a large bag from Kelly's. How she managed to trot in those pencil heels she always wore, he'd never know.

"What's up?"

"They gave me an extra sandwich with my order of brownies and my doggie bag," she explained, rooting around in the sack until she found the container. "Here. It's got pickles and French fries and some cole slaw, I think. You have it."

"Anna…"

"I'm serious." She half-jabbed the sandwich at him. "There's too much food here for me. I've got half my lunch, turnovers for CeeCee's tonight, and brownies. I could eat all of it, but then I'd just hate myself. Hi, Ms. Webber."

Elizabeth smiled absently. "Hi, Anna."

"Besides." Her focus was immediately back on Jake. "Once you lock yourself in your office, you forget to eat. You might as well have this with you – I hear you gave your cook a sore throat, what with all the yelling for you to come for dinner."

With a sigh, he accepted the food. "Fine. Thanks."

Pleased, Anna closed up her sack and tucked it under her arm. "Oh, by the way – we're getting together at CeeCee's place tonight for drinks. Just to hang out, you know. You should stop by. Morgan said he'd try to make it, and Cam's coming, too."

"I'd love to, but I've got work."

"Oh." She made a nasty face at him, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue in a foul grimace, and was back to smiling brightly in seconds. "Well, okay. You have to make it up to me, though. I'm thinking…something shiny."

Jake cracked a smile and nodded. "Something shiny. You got it."

"Bye, Ms. Webber. Later, Jake."

"Later."

Elizabeth watched Anna trot back up the steps and around the corner, and it was only when the young woman disappeared from view that she turned back to her son.

"You know…"

Jake glanced up at her as he silenced another call on his phone, and Elizabeth wondered if that damn thing ever stopped buzzing and gave her son any peace.

"Yeah?"

She tilted her head to the side. "…I've seen your father do exactly what you're doing now."

He arched a brow at her, his expression bland. "Oh? And that is?"

Elizabeth eased closer, settling a hand on her son's arm. "Push people away. Keep your head in the sand, just bury yourself in your work. He did it when he lost Michael. He did it when Carly and Sonny slept together the first time. He did it when he thought Michael died. He did it when…when he lost you."

Jake resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her passive phrasing, describing Jason having _lost_ him, rather than having him taken away.

"Jake, that's no way to build a life."

He let out a little snort before he could help it. "Mom, this might be difficult for you to understand, and I get that, I really do, because you spent _your_ whole life keeping your head in the sand about this way of life."

Elizabeth's expression soured.

"But I'm doing all of this _so_ I can build a life. Nothing comes easily. Especially not for me. And that's partly my fault, because I don't like taking the easy way."

He shook his head when she tried to interrupt him.

"The kind of empire I'm building – it takes time to build. It takes careful work and extensive planning and complete devotion to get it off the ground. The business is my life right now – it's been my life since I started with it. The people in my life understand that. Do you think Anna cares that I'm not going to stop by Ceece's place tonight? Do you honestly think she thinks that means I'm pushing all of them away? No. She understands that I have work to do and I'll find the rest of them when I'm free."

Elizabeth started to say something, but Jake's phone buzzed again.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this." He turned it on and walked past her, cupping her elbow as he went in way of goodbye.

"Jake Morgan. What's the news?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

Amalia had been busy with meetings on the night that the rest of the girls got together at Cecily's place, along with a couple of the boys, and so they'd arranged another night out later in the week.

"I'll have a long vodka," Cecily was saying to Coleman, who'd come by to chat and serve the young women personally. "And Anna will have her cosmo, and Moll wants a butterscotch martini, Kay's got her gin and tonic, and for Amalia…"

Cecily gave her old friend the side-eye, smirking mischievously. "Just get her whatever micro-brew Jake's been drinking lately."

"Lately…" Coleman had to think about it. "I don't know, I haven't seen the little dude in here for a while. Not since the old dude died. I did get a recommendation from one of his people, though, for the next time he stops in. And the shipment just arrived today – something called Terrapin Dos Cocoa. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," Amalia chirped.

"I never figured you for a micro-brew like that," he said. "I always make you those girly drinks whenever you come in."

"Jake must have turned her on to them," Cecily winked, her grin widening as the other girls snickered.

"Yeah, he must have," Anna murmured, causing Amalia to glare at her. "Thanks, Coleman."

"Be right back, girlies."

Done teasing Amalia – for now – Cecily picked at the peanuts sitting on the table. "I had no idea Jake hasn't stopped by here since Carmine died. He loves this place."

"We've been really busy," Kristina sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily.

"Really, really busy," Molly agreed. "Which is why I'm _so_ glad to actually be able to get out at night and do stuff, otherwise I'd tee-tee-el-why want to shoot myself in the face."

"I'm lucky, at least," Kristina continued. "I'm not his only lawyer. He's got about twenty working for him right now, so I can afford to skip out every once in a while when it gets to be too much. Moll's the one that's stuck."

"Not stuck half as bad as Jake is," her little sister demurred. "There's only one of him, and his name is the one on the dotted line in every single case. Who knew it would take so long and be so hard to combine all these businesses?"

"My dad was saying that Carmine had a lot of safeguards in place should anyone try to take over part of his business," Amalia imparted. "Legal booby-traps, I guess. Basically. Plus, so many sets of fake books that they'd fill the Library of Babel. It's taking a lot of time to go through everything, fix the mistakes, work around the loopholes, and all of that."

"Plus, he's got that stupid products liability suit that's taking up so much damn time because opposing counsel is completely incompetent," Kristina groused. "Some idiot college freshman falls off one of the bunk beds that was manufactured by one of the ELQ subsidiaries – Lofts, Inc., or something – and sues because he thinks that Lofts should have put up a warning about falling."

Anna made a face. "Are you serious? That's the dumbest thing I ever heard. Wonder what the kid's GPA is."

Kristina started laughing. "Figures that you'd go there first. And I think it's a 2.45 or something."

"That explains it." She smiled at the hostess when she set her cosmopolitan down in front of her. "Thanks. I mean, it's like, note to fool: if you fall off a bed, you will get hurt."

"Are you on that case?"

Kristina shook her head. "One of the associate lawyers is handling most of it, I'm just advising. He's a Yale graduate, just passed the Bar. He's capable of handling it on his own, but it's his first real case as a licensed lawyer, so he's a little nervous. Which means I have to show up at all the depositions and try to keep myself from bashing my face into the table."

"What's it look like so far, from what you can tell?"

"We'll win," she yawned before taking a fortifying sip of her gin and tonic. "No doubt about it. Either it will be dismissed as a frivolous suit, or we'll squash the claim immediately. No big deal. Just really annoying and time-consuming because opposing counsel is an obsessive fool."

"Not to disrupt the ranting, but can we move to another table? Maybe over there, by the pool tables?" Anna gestured to the window right by where Amalia was sitting. "Some guys are hanging out right outside there, being idiots, and it's annoying."

Cecily rolled her eyes but grabbed her bag and her drink anyway. "_You're_ annoying."

"It might be my father's men," Amalia suggested, even though she picked up her stuff, too. "They come by the bar sometimes if they know I'm here. Or Jake's men."

"Yeah, the knights have strict instructions to protect the queen," Cecily preened, grinning over her shoulder.

"Shut up." She shot her a nasty look but sat down next to her anyway, stealing a sip of her long vodka as Cecily looped her tote over the edge of her chair. "Although…honestly, I'm kind of worried about him."

Anna peered at her over the edge of her martini glass before setting it down. "About Jake?"

"Yeah." She troubled a lock of hair between her fingers, her expression troubled and gaze distant. "He's locked himself up in his house. He's been working around the clock. It's never been like this before – even when his grandfather gave him ELQ to trip him up after he took over the business from Morgan."

"We're in the homestretch," Kristina promised her quietly. "Really, we are. We're so close. It's not going to be long now, maybe another day, if that. We're so, so close, and everything will be back to normal. And you'll get to see him again, so there's that."

Cecily affectionately jostled her friend with her shoulder. "And if you're this messed up from not being able to see him, I bet he's even more messed up from not being able to see you. He's probably working as hard as he can and as fast as he can so that he can get back to his life. You know?"

Amalia nodded, glancing up at the darkened doorway. "…Yeah."

Anna sensed her preoccupation and looked in the same direction. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing." She shook her head and managed a small smile. "I'm just a little high-strung, I guess. I thought I saw someone lurking around over there. It was just someone leaving the bar. Ugh, I need another drink. Moll, let me try your martini."

"It's really good," she said, passing it over. "Super sweet, though. Cameron makes so much fun of me – he says I might as well brew my own liquor and dump a shit-ton of candy in the vat."

"What's going on with you and Cam, anyway?" Anna took the drink from Amalia, taking a small sip and finding it to her liking. She waved over a hostess and promptly ordered one for herself and Amalia, and another gin and tonic for Kristina. "I've been meaning to ask you. How are things?"

"Things are okay," Molly replied brightly, finally getting her drink back. "We're happy."

Cecily arched a brow at her. "Any hint of a big, shiny diamond in your future?"

She shrugged, still smiling. "I don't know. I don't think we're there yet, to be honest."

"But you guys have been dating for a couple years now," Amalia pointed out. "Two and a half, right? Two? And you were always pretty close. Cam's the type of guy to want to settle down – is it that strange to think he'd propose soon?"

"Not strange," Molly agreed, "and to be honest, there was a time or two when I thought he would, like when Jake sent us down to French Polynesia for a little vacation. But I just don't think we're there yet."

"Would you say no if he asked?" Anna wanted to know.

"God, no!" she squawked, making Amalia laugh. "If he asked, I'd say yes, of course. And I hope he does ask, at some point. But right now…he works full time at the hospital. I work full time for Jake."

"Ah." Cecily nodded to herself. "That's the problem."

"Cameron knows why I work for Jake," Molly said simply. "He knows I like what I do, he knows I enjoy the challenge, he knows I…kind of like causing trouble." Here, she grinned impishly. "And he knows that because of me, Jake is safer, doing what he does. I just don't know how it will work if we get married and I'm still Jake's right hand. My priorities will change. Cameron's priorities will change. And if or when we have kids, what then? I just want things to calm down a bit before we all make life-changing decisions."

"But those questions will always be there," Amalia pointed out slowly. "The only way to resolve that is to stop working for Jake, which you don't want to do. You have to admit, you and Cam and any kids you might have – they won't be fully safe if you're still working for Jake. Those questions will _always_ be there. What, then?"

Kristina was watching this exchange shrewdly, and lifted her glass to her lips so as not to be invited to say anything.

"The questions won't always be there," Molly said softly. She looked down, as if embarrassed by the fact that she was keeping something from her best friend. "It's just a matter of waiting until everything falls into place, I guess. For me, for Cameron, for everyone."

There was a long moment of silence as Cecily looked around the table. "…Okay, what does that even mean?"

Molly cleared her throat quietly, her finger skirting around the edge of her glass. "I'm sorry, Ceece, I really don't know how much Jake wants me to say."

It was an answer that Cecily could easily accept. "Ah. Well…good luck with that, then."

Molly laughed, nodding. "Thank you. And what about you and Mal?"

Cecily shrugged happily. "Eh. We've got a good thing going. We'll just go at our own pace, you know? No need to complicate things before we're ready."

"And you were on me for not being in any hurry and wanting to wait?" Molly pretended to grouse. "You're the same way!"

"True," Cecily smiled, "but I don't work for a mobster and I don't carry a gun. Little bit of a difference."

"Fair enough."

"Good thing you're both so laissez-faire about it," Anna said, playing with her drink. "And not, like, freaking out about not getting married. God, there are so many girls in my classes that I'll hear when I walk through the quad, bitching about how their boyfriends won't propose and all that. And it's like, first, you're too young. Second, even if you are young but you know that this is your guy, as a lot of people somehow do, be ballsy about it! If you want something to happen, make it happen! I mean…what?"

She looked around the table at her friends, all of whom were shooting her bland looks.

"What? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Anna?" Cecily reached across the table and took her best friend's hand. "Honey, I love you. I've loved you since we were kids. Don't take this the wrong way, but being ballsy isn't exactly your strong suit."

Her jaw dropped. "What? I'm ballsy!"

"Not so much, dear," Amalia smiled warmly, trying not to laugh. "You're zany. Ballsy, not so much."

"I take risks!"

"No, you don't," Kristina said kindly. "You exist and survive and smile. It's been your MO since we were little."

"You have a nice, clean, comfortable, boring job at PCU," Molly said, ticking things off on her fingers, "and up until a year or two ago, you still lived with your parents because it was familiar and comfortable. You either don't date, or you see a guy that means very little to you so that it doesn't matter when you tell him you're over it."

"Well, gee, tell me how you really feel," Anna muttered, sitting back in her seat.

Molly reached out and gave her a sideways hug. "Oh, honey, you know we totally heart you, all of you. Everything about you. And we're not saying you're somehow sheltered or lacking in life experience."

"It's just that you take all that life experience that you invent and pour it into your characters," Amalia suggested. "Remember _The Academy of Brides_? All of those amazing characters you came up with? Their back-stories? All of those characters had pieces of you in them, but that was it. It's almost like…it's almost like you live vicariously through the characters you come up with."

"And it's not even like you have to," Kristina pointed out. "The book Li's talking about – it's probably my favorite one that you've written. That group of girls – their dreams, their aspirations, their goals, their relationships, their experiences…they can be yours, easily. They could be mine. They could be all of ours. They didn't have spectacular, extraordinary, other-worldly things happen to them. They just lived their lives to the fullest. That was the lesson I took from your book: to start doing that."

"Really?" Anna was starting to smile. "You took that lesson from it?"

Kristina nodded. "Yup. When I finished it, I put down my wine and called Dan and asked him out. I figured, life's short. Why not do what I think will make me happy? Why not?"

"Why not?" Amalia repeated. "That was the lesson I took from it, too. Every time I felt cornered, every time I felt self-conscious or nervous, I'd say, why not? And then I'd just go for it. Let me tell you, it really saved my sanity when my dad started cracking down on me, especially about getting married."

Anna smiled wryly and played with her drink. "You think I should just go for it?"

"Why not?" Cecily exclaimed, throwing her hands up as they all laughed. "I don't know, do something…ballsy! Do something you've always wanted to do. Do something crazy. Do something fun. Do something just because it will feel good, just because it's the last thing that people would expect you to do. Do something that….do something."

"Not that we're saying you need to rob a bank or steal a car or anything," Kristina giggled, having gotten her second wind from the alcohol. "Just…do something. Let's all do something, guys. Something ballsy. Something fun. Something new, something we've always wanted to do. Something just for us. Tell you what – I already know what I'm going to do. I'm going to sign up for those salsa classes at the community center. I've always wanted to learn how to do that – hello, I'm kind of an embarrassment as a Latina already. So why not? It'll be something just for me."

"I'm going to…" Cecily thought about it for a moment. "…I know. I'm going to aggressively schmooze with Anna Wintour until I get my own spread in her magazine. Designers do it all the time: anything to get your designs in a high-volume rag. And I can do it – right? I can do it!"

"You can do it," Molly agreed. "As for me, I'm going to…I don't know. I'll figure it out. What about you, Li?"

"I'll figure something out, too," she replied smugly, her smile widening when they all shot her a knowing look. "I'm thinking…something romantic involving Vegas."

Cecily laughed at that and elbowed her playfully. "Sounds perfect – and it sounds like someone else will enjoy it, too."

"If he ever finishes his work," she cracked.

"I'd start making those plans immediately," Kristina piped up with a wink. "Something tells me he'll be done sooner rather than later."

"Ooh, sounds sexy," Molly smiled, looking over at her friend. "So, how about it, Anna? You going to do something or not?"

Anna laughed at that and lifted her glass to click against Molly's. "Why not?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Oceanside Towers, Penthouse 2 :.**

"Beverly, I'm going to need three copies of the commission's report on my desk no later than tomorrow."

Morgan rifled through his folder and set it down on the desk. "And make sure the dated memo gets sent out to my staff. We can't have any more issues like that coming up."

"_Of course, Mister Corinthos."_

"And I need you on hand to take notes during my meeting with Commissioner Spencer tomorrow."

"_I will clear my schedule, Sir."_

"That'll be all, Beverly. Thank you so much."

"_No trouble at all. See you tomorrow."_

"Have a good night." He pressed the speaker button on his phone and hung up. It had been a long day and a rough few days. He had endless meetings, lengthy reports, and a couple photo ops that he had been unable to push back.

Thankfully, tomorrow was a lighter day, and Morgan was looking forward to it. In addition to that, there was a good chance that Jake would be wrapping up all the loose ends that had kept him busy for so long and they'd actually get to hang out like they used to.

A knock on his door had him muttering obscenities. He'd been stressed out all day and all he really wanted to do was strip and flop into bed, maybe watch mindless infomercials for a bit before falling dead asleep.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." He loosened his tie, having not had even a minute after he got home a little while ago to properly undress. Working the knot, he let the two ends dangle in the front and shrugged out of his suit jacket, tossing it on the couch as he reached for the doorknob. "What?"

He found Anna standing in the hall, dressed in a dark gray pencil skirt, an only slightly sheer pink silk blouse, and nude pumps, her matching gray blazer thrown over her arm.

Morgan popped the top button on his shirt, still holding on to the door with one hand. "Hey. What's up?"

Anna just smiled in reply, and Morgan didn't even have time to puzzle over the saucy smirk before she moved in, pushing him back and away from the door. She dropped her purse on the nearby table next to the bin he used for his keys, launched her jacket at the couch, kicked the door shut with her heel, and, winding her arm around his neck, kissed him.

Morgan's eyes widened in shock, but then Anna's other arm wound around him and she arched her back, bringing her hips into contact with his, and that was it.

She was kissing him fiercely, her fingers speared through his hair, and Morgan's hands came to rest on her waist. The silk was flimsy under his fingers and when she moved, his fingertips brushed against the smooth skin of her back.

He kissed her back tentatively at first, still not sure what was going on or why the girl that he enjoyed bickering with was currently in his arms and acting like how at any second she'd ram her tongue down his throat – there it was.

Anna traced the seam of his lips with her tongue and Morgan's hands tightened on her hips above that prim little skirt of hers. She tasted sweet, a childish, summery flavor, like butterscotch.

Her hands were on his cheeks, his light stubble scraping against her soft palms, and then slipped down his chest until her fingertips brushed against the buttons of his shirt.

Morgan kissed her harder, deeper, and backed her up against the door. Suddenly, it didn't quite matter why this was happening, just that it was. It really, truly was.

Anna's fingers dropped to his belt and before he knew it, she had the thing undone and pulled loose, and then it fell to the hardwood floors with a clack. Wanting to reciprocate, Morgan tugged that light, breezy blouse of hers out of her snug skirt, his fingers flying to undo the buttons until it simply hung from her shoulders, her pearly pink bra bared.

She braced her back against the door, tilting her pelvis forward so her lower back was planted there, and Morgan went with her willingly. He kissed her neck, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin there as she fumbled with the button on his pants before tugging the zipper down.

Morgan groaned when her hand wrapped around him and kissed her harder, his hips grinding forward when she gave him an abrupt squeeze. It didn't take long to get him hard, and Morgan hiked Anna's skirt up her legs, his rough skin rasping against her smooth thighs.

Anna squirmed a bit, wriggling out of her underwear, and Morgan gripped her calf. Roughly, he grasped her leg and pushed it up, all the way up and back until her thigh was resting against her ribcage, marveling at how her devotion to yoga made her so flexible.

The condoms he always kept in his wallet came in handy yet again, and Anna yanked it from his hand and sheathed him quickly, his hand and chest still pushing on her leg so that it was pressed between them.

Morgan braced a hand on the wall for balance, the other one high on her thigh, and entered her slowly. Anna let out a slow, steady breath, her eyes fluttering closed, and her arms came to wrap around his strong back, her fingertips pressing into the small, rippling muscles as he exercised every last bit of self-control he possessed.

Only when they were fully connected did he take in a breath to collect himself, resting his forehead against hers. Anna's eyes opened slowly and she watched him for a moment before cupping his face in her hands and kissing him deeply.

He curled into her, responding immediately, and Anna wrapped her leg tightly around his trim waist, the heel of her shoe digging slightly into the back of his thigh. Morgan growled, raking his nails down her thigh as he positioned her carefully, and began thrusting.

He went slow at first, and then increasingly faster as Anna began to respond. Her hand moved to his backside, gripping there and urging him along, and Morgan kept at it until her fingernails dug into his skin and he heard her let out a moan as her body stiffened. He came just a moment later, planting his hands on the wall and catching himself before he slumped into her.

Anna's leg was still loosely wrapped around his waist, and her breathing was just starting to return to normal. She reached up and gently stroked his black hair out of his face, her breath catching when he looked up and turned his head slightly so that their lips brushed together.

He kissed her softly before pulling back and looking down at her quizzically, surprised that, for once, she wasn't bubbling forth with random, crazy chatter.

His voice when he spoke was rough and low in the still of the penthouse. "…Why did we just do that?"

Anna lifted a shoulder in reply and, fisting the sides of his undone shirt, pulled him in for another kiss. Just before their lips met, her words fluttered over his skin.

"Why not?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

"Here you go, little dude." Coleman set a frosty bottle down in front of Jake as he flipped through some missed calls on his phone. "Terrapin Dos Cocoa."

"Thanks."

Jason, who was sitting next to Sonny, watched Jake crack it open. He knew his son had a thing for micro-brews, and it amazed him how wide Jake's repertoire was. While he'd been showing up at Morgan Manor to help him tame Carmine's business, Jason had been offered micro-brews that he never could have even conceived of.

"Have you tried it yet?"

Coleman shook his head. "Haven't gotten around to it, so let me know what you think. Princess liked it, though. She was here late last week with the other girlies and tried it out."

Jake nodded, electing not to dignify any mention of Amalia in front of his father and Sonny, who had just happened to join him, Morgan, Kristina, Mal, and Spencer at the bar.

"Sorry I'm late."

They looked over and saw Cecily, designer tote bag and sketchbook in hand, hurrying over to their table.

"You would not believe it," she said excitedly, dumping her stuff down and pushing at Spencer's shoulder for him to move over. "I just got off a two hour long phone call with Anna Wintour's deputy personal assistant. Her deputy personal assistant!"

Sonny wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Is…that a good thing?"

His ex-wife's daughter nodded eagerly, smacking Spencer's hand when he tried to take a few peanuts from the dish and pulling it closer to herself as Coleman went to get her a long vodka. "Oh, it's a great thing. Her deputy personal assistant is her second-in-command, second to her real personal assistant, obviously."

"Obviously," Jason muttered, taking a sip of his plain, no-bells-or-whistles beer.

Cecily barely paid attention to him, which wasn't unusual. "I made a great impression on her, I think. And since I got her ear, my chances of getting Anna's have much improved. I'm hoping before the end of next year, I land a spread in her magazine. How awesome would that be?! Can you even imagine? Cecily Jane, gracing the pages of Vogue! I love it! I hope it happens!"

"If you want me to arrange something, I can," Jake said, sounding bored as he flipped through his emails. He had finally finished up all his work with Carmine's businesses – all that was left to do was file the extensive paperwork, and his fleet of lawyers would be taking care of that the following day. Now, it was time to catch up on all the contacts he'd ignored during his business-related hibernation, and he'd just spotted one whose wife ran in various fashion circles.

"I'd be happy to do it."

"I know you would," Cecily said, smiling at Coleman when he handed her a drink. "But I'd like to do this on my own, if you don't mind."

Jake just shrugged. "Whatever. My Rolodex app is yours if you want it."

"I'll keep that in mind. So, how does it feel to actually get out of the Bat Cave?"

Jake sighed, his shoulders slumping, and actually looked up from his phone. "_So_ good, I can't even tell you. I'd almost forgotten what all of you looked like."

She laughed and turned to her brother. "What about you? I've barely heard from you since you came by my place last week. Being the mayor isn't all photo ops and pulling kittens out of trees like you thought, huh?"

Morgan spared her a bland look. "Whatever. I've had meetings up the ass for a week, but things are calming down a little. Had a meeting with your Pop today."

"Yeah?" Jake snorted, amused, clicking away on his phone as Jason watched, trying not to bristle. "How'd that go?"

"He wasn't too keen on listening to me explain to him that he violated a state law, so, not too well."

That had his attention. "Yeah? What'd he do?"

"One of his cops was convicted of second-degree criminal trespass or something during some scuffle with another guy outside that one bar in the White Birch neighborhood," Morgan said. "After he was convicted, your Pop fired him."

"But criminal trespass is a misdemeanor," Kristina frowned. "He could have fired him if it was a felony but not if it was just a misdemeanor, right? Was that it?"

"In a nutshell," her younger brother agreed. "The cop had a right to a hearing before being fired pursuant to the Public Officers Law in section thirty of the New York State Code. He didn't get one because of the Commish. Now he's going to sue the city, meaning your Pop's put me in a hell of a spot."

"So fire him," Jake shrugged, earning a surprised look from Jason at his cavalier manner. "Who gives a fuck? He's not doing his job right, he's costing you and the city time and money that would be far better spent otherwise, especially in this economy, so get rid of him. Bring in someone better."

"Now, hold on," Sonny disagreed. "I have issues with the guy like everyone else, but Lucky put in his time here. He's worked for the PCPD for decades. One mistake shouldn't cost him everything."

"It was hardly one mistake, Dad," Morgan said, arching a brow. "He's been in my office about five times since I became mayor. It's becoming a pattern of incompetence and disregard for the law, and for my office."

"All I'm saying is that he was loyal to the force and this town," Sonny insisted. "And that loyalty has to count for something. You can't get rid of him."

Jake glanced up from his phone at his best friend's father. "I bet you ran your business that way, too."

Sonny nodded proudly. "I did."

He smirked, looking back down at his email list. "Yeah, it showed."

Turning slightly, Jake elbowed Morgan as Sonny's eyes narrowed. "I'm so glad we fired almost everyone when we took over. There was so much fat that needed to be trimmed there."

Morgan laughed in agreement and Kristina, sensing that her father would fire back in a matter of seconds, wisely decided to change the subject. "Here, Morgan, you were asking about the WSJ. I'm done with it."

"Thanks." He took the newspaper from her and flipped to the Business section. "You know, it feels like forever since I had the time to actually sit and read the paper. Hell, I haven't even read the _Gazette_ since early last week. All I know is what I get during briefings."

"I can't believe you even read the paper," Jake snorted. "I get all my news from news sites. And blogs." He coughed sheepishly. "…And Twitter."

"You and your Twitter," Cecily scoffed, tossing two peanuts in the air and catching them in her mouth. "You know, for the first week when you started talking about it, I thought it referred to masturbation. Just a poorly conceived name, really."

Jake scoffed. "Twitter's amazing and it's changing the world. You should use it, too – you could build up quite a following for your brand and connect with your clients directly. Screw Wintour as the middle-woman. Set up a fashion blog, link the two, do a giveaway or contest every month or so, write about fashion tips or whatever, and I guarantee a spike in your sales and name-recognition. It's a can't-fail business model."

"I don't know…"

"How do you think I got the Coffee Shop to take off so fast?" he asked, holding up his phone so they could see a small snapshot of his coffee blog. "First, I had my team set up a blog. They'd put up coffee news, history, brewing information, store information, a gift shop link, recipes, everything you could think of that's related to coffee. They seamlessly worked it into the website and connected it with the CoffeeShop's Twitter. We do a giveaway every week – a free bag of coffee, a free tumbler, whatever – to whoever can answer a random coffee trivia question. Once a year, we do a contest where the winner gets to pick the name of a new blend. Since we got it all up together and running, we've seen a 40% increase in sales. Those are numbers I can get behind."

"You talk too fast," Cecily groused. "You're like a little gerbil in a wheel, always running on some random idea."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Talk to me when you want to bolster your brand. I'll be around."

"Isn't it funny how condom sales always go up and men's underwear sales always go down during a recession?" Morgan asked from behind his newspaper. "Guys are having more sex in rattier underwear. Weird."

"Don't go trying that with those high-end call girls you like so much," Spencer warned, grinning at his old friend. Morgan shot him a pained look as Sonny balked. Apparently, he wasn't familiar with his son's fondness for escorts. "It's brand name for you, only, otherwise they'll move on to better clothed clients."

"Shut up, asshole."

"THERE YOU ARE."

They all jumped at Anna's voice as she stormed into the bar, moving quite fast atop the poppy-colored cut out pumps she was wearing.

"Who's she talking to?" Jake whispered to Cecily.

She shrugged uneasily. "I don't know, but boy, does she look mad."

"Shit, I hope I didn't do something stupid again," he muttered, settling back in his seat as Anna approached, brandishing a folded up newspaper that Jake really hoped she wasn't going to hit any of them with. "Uh…hi, Anna."

She ignored him entirely and reached down, grabbing Morgan's shirt and forcing him to turn and face her. He sputtered in surprise and banged his wrist on the table, still holding on to the _Wall Street Journal. _

"What are you going to do about this?"

"Um…" He looked at Jake and Spencer, both of whom shrugged uncomfortably, and then back up at her. "Do about…what, exactly?"

"This stupid story in the newspaper that is all your stupid fault, you stupid, stupid person!"

Jake tried to get a look at the paper but couldn't because she was holding it all folded up. "Anna, come on, what are you talking about? Clue us in, here."

"I'm talking about this!" She jabbed the paper at him, hands planted on her hips as Jake unfolded it to the correct page. "It's all his fault!"

Jake's eyes widened as he read the story, and then he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard and so loud that he almost fell out of his chair, but even that didn't stop him.

"What?" Morgan was getting antsy, and even Spencer and Mal were leaning forward to see. "What is it?"

Jake had to wipe tears from his eyes, but he was still laughing. "Morgan, did you by any chance notice a photographer in the hall outside your penthouse this morning?"

He frowned, thinking back. "…No, there wasn't anyone there."

"Well, he was there earlier." He handed him the copy of the _Port Charles Gazette _from that morning and they all saw a picture of Anna closing the door of Penthouse 2 at Oceanside Towers early that morning. She was wearing a wrinkled skirt, an untucked but (thankfully) buttoned pink blouse, had her suit jacket over her arm, and her dark waves were tellingly rumpled. The accompanying headline on the society page and the little blurb that followed said it all.

"They think she was one of your call girls!" Jake laughed, smacking the table with his palm. "Oh, man! They even posed the question of whether or not you were paying her with city dollars! Ha!"

Morgan groaned and the rest of his friends gaped at him, apparently not as unfazed by this new development as Jake was.

"Wait a minute." Spencer was staring between a chastised Morgan and a furious Anna. "You guys…you guys _slept _together? Really? Since fucking when has this been going on?"

Sonny's mouth was open as he gaped at the kids, and both he and Jason were capable of forming only one thought: _Carly is going to lose it if she has to share grandchildren with Robin. _

Morgan rolled his eyes, not feeling the need to respond since the picture really did sum it up quite well. Mal, however, wanted more of an explanation.

"Dude." He glared at his sister, who was so over it and working through her own rage, and then at his old friend. "You son of a bitch, you slept with my sister!"

Morgan arched a brow at him. "And you've been sleeping with mine for the better part of a decade now."

Mal snapped his mouth shut, considering this, then finally stuck out his hand. "Even?"

"Let's call it even," Morgan agreed, returning the handshake as Cecily and Anna squawked.

"You guys are pigs," the blonde muttered before looking up at her best friend. "And, you know, Anna, when we told you to get out and do something, we didn't mean get out and do my brother."

"Oh, shut up," she snapped as Jason tried to bite down on his laughter. "And you, don't you two even start. Because you, Mister Corinthos, you slept with Molly and Kay's mother _and_ their sister. And you, Mister Morgan, well, you…I'm not getting into it. E! already ran another hour-long story about it last week; everyone's already aware of your sexual indiscretions."

Jason colored; Jake smirked.

"What I want to know," she continued, hands on her hips, "is what we're going to do about this."

"Probably laugh our asses off for a week," Jake mumbled, but unfortunately, he was overheard.

"JACOB MOR-"

"Fine, fine!" he cried, unable to take her screeching. "Kay-"

"I'm on it, I'm on it," she got out in the midst of her laughter as she managed to pull her phone out of her purse. "I'm suing, I'm suing. Jeez."

"I hope you two used condoms," Jake pretended to warn a glowering Morgan and Anna seriously, repeating a thought that had already occurred to Sonny and Jason. "Because while your moms would both love grandkids, they'd fight each other if they had to share them."


	81. A Satisfied Man

**Mean | 80**

_God gives,_

_God takes._

_Don't misunderstand,_

_I'm a satisfied man._

_So sweet, so strange._

-- "Everyone's in Love with You," David Byrne

**.: Port Charles University, English Department :.**

Anna set down her copy of _The Echo Maker _and _Galatia 2.0_, two of the books for her class on contemporary fiction, and rummaged around on her desk for her copy of _Woe is I_ for her upcoming class on style and technique.

It would certainly help if her office were at least remotely organized.

So far, it had been…an awkward day.

She'd hoped that the whole scandal with her grainy photograph being in the _Gazette_ and them mistaking her for a high-end hooker would have died down over the weekend. The Lord knew that she'd fielded enough crazy phone calls from her mother, her father, her Grampa Robert, and even GramAnna, who'd phoned in from Saigon to tell her that nice girls did not get mistaken for hookers except if they were undercover as hookers and then, it was really a part of their job so who cared if they were left money on the nightstand the next morning?

God, her family was so weird.

As for Morgan, she was proud of herself for not avoiding him or acting differently around him. He seemed a little more quiet, a little more shy, but that didn't matter. He was Morgan. He was stodgy and stiff, a total stick in the mud. She'd help him outgrow that eventually.

They hadn't really spoken that much since the story came out, even if they had gone for a quickie behind Jake's just for the hell of it. She had to admit, she'd never figured that Morgan would be up for something like that, but he'd surprised her many times since she'd dropped by his penthouse that night.

To say that he was good in bed was an understatement. Anna had no idea that under that stuffy suit and those stupid, boring ties was a man that was absolutely wild in bed. He was quiet and methodic, but he was rough and aggressive enough, without scaring her, which was important.

And it sure didn't help matters (or maybe it did?) that every time he walked past her now, all she could do was stare at his butt.

It was a great butt, really, and she just wanted to spank it.

That wasn't so weird.

Okay, it was a little weird.

A knock on her door interrupted her crazed rummaging and she looked up to find Morgan standing there, one hand braced on the threshold as he leaned into her office.

"Hey." His dark eyes quickly – nervously? – scanned the small room. "Bad time?"

"Not particularly." She kicked her desk drawer shut with her bare foot, having found her book. "What are you doing here? Photo op?"

"Not really," he replied uneasily. "I…actually came by to see how you were."

She paused in the middle of sweeping her bangs out of her face and stared at him. "…Me?"

Morgan nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah."

"…What the hell for?"

He rolled his eyes. "The backlash from the picture."

"Oh." Right. That. "Whatever."

"Not whatever," he said sternly, and she saw the lawyer in him coming out as quick as a flash. "It is, unfortunately, a serious situation. Especially given that a lot of universities frown on any kind of conduct like this on the part of their faculty members."

Anna waved him off. "Whatever. It's fine."

"Anna." Morgan crossed the room in two long strides until he stood in front of her. "It's not fine. There was a compromising photograph of you in the paper as well as defamatory statements. You work in a conservative profession for a religiously-affiliated private university. And you haven't yet reached tenure."

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. "_Whatever_, Morgan. I'll deal with that if it comes up."

"See, I'm willing to bet that it _has_ come up and you're just too embarrassed to tell anyone," he said, sidestepping so that he remained in her path. "Well?"

"Well, nothing."

"Anna."

"Damn it, Morgan!"

"No, no." He arched a brow superciliously at her, refusing to budge. "Your shrill-tactics don't work on me when it's important. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," she replied testily. "I don't need you running in here to check on me just because I put it to you. I can take care of myself."

Morgan closed his eyes and counted to three, the way he always did when she annoyed him, and continued. "If you don't need me, that's fine. I have no problem with that. But consider bringing on other legal representation, then."

She stopped and stared at him.

"That's right," he shrugged. "Because this could get ugly. I've seen it happen before. A college professor put a few pictures of herself in lingerie up on Facebook and was fired a week later. Pictures of a scandalous morning-after and being accused of prostitution don't fare much better."

He grunted with laughter when she socked him in the stomach, then turned serious. "Anna, if anyone acting on behalf of the university said anything to you, I need to know. I don't want anything to happen to you as a result of what we did."

"Well.." She began to trouble her lower lip. "My department head did send me an email this morning telling me that she wanted to meet with me and the Dean of Faculty Affairs later this week…I didn't reply yet."

Morgan nodded briskly. "When you do, you can inform her that your lawyer will be taking that meeting with you."

Anna arched a brow at him. "Since when are you my lawyer?"

He just shrugged. "Don't want me? Ask Kay, then. Or I can refer one of my friends who's got some experience in this sort of thing. Bottom line, you're not meeting with anyone in connection to the university without documentation and representation."

She nodded jerkily. "Okay. No, yeah, that's fine, I just didn't think you'd be able to work it into your schedule. It's…cool if you want to do it."

"On second thought, I probably shouldn't," he replied sheepishly. "You're right, it would look strange. But I'm sure Jake can spare Kay – he's not even going to be here this week."

"Where's he going?"

"Li's taking him to Vegas."

"Oh, that's right."

"Here's what I want to do," he said, returning to the matter at hand. "It's what I came by for, actually. I wanted to talk to you and see if you were okay with me having a word with your Dean and the President of the university, the school's legal counsel, that sort of thing. I want to make sure they understand that, first, you were not guilty of any wrong-doing. Second, they're being watched very closely. And third, any disciplinary action they may elect to take against you, even if legal, would not be in the best public policy considering the image troubles they're going through right now."

Anna blinked. "Wow. Mouthful."

"Yeah, well." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I just wanted to talk to you about it. I didn't want to do it on my own without discussing it with you first."

"It's fine with me if you do that," she nodded. "And you'll sue their pants off for me if they fire me, right?"

"I'll sue their pants off," Morgan promised with a grin. "You can spend the rest of your life sitting pretty on the settlement and writing novels."

"That's what I like to hear." She glanced at her watch, seeing that she had just ten minutes before her next class. "Anything else?"

"That was it," he replied, starting to turn around. "And again, if anything else comes up, call me, text me, whatever. Try not to say too much without letting me know what's going on. All we have to do is handle this carefully, and everything will be fine."

"Got it," Anna nodded as he left the room. "Will do."

She approached the door to close it and was surprised when he reappeared. "Oh. Did you forget something?"

"Yeah," was all he said before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Anna closed her eyes when she felt his hand at the small of her back and leaned into him, her hands resting on his chest.

They heard someone clear his or her throat, and Morgan and Anna practically jumped apart to find one of her students as well as the head of the English department standing outside the door of her office.

The student, bless her, was doing her best to contain a smirk. "Uh, Dr. Drake, I just wanted to bring by the first draft of my thesis. Dr. Avery said she'd be my second reader on it."

Anna sucked in a calming breath and took the paper from her, smiling at her student and Dr. Avery. "That's wonderful, thank you. I'll get to it as soon as possible."

She cleared her throat and turned to Morgan, her hand brushing against his arm. "You were – just leaving, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was," he said aloud, nodding at her and then the two women. "Hello, nice meeting you. If you'll excuse me, please."

"Good to see you, Mayor Corinthos," the student quipped as he strode out of her office and down the hall.

Morgan shook his head, safely out of sight and earshot. At least that one hadn't had a camera on her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Bellagio Hotel and Casino, the Villas at Bellagio :.**

Even the great Jason Morgan had never been invited to stay at the Villas at Bellagio, much less had one made available to him _and_ his guest each on very short notice.

Jake had been here before, on his many trips to Las Vegas to manage his properties here, but had never really had the time to enjoy it. So when Amalia told him that since he was done handling the Mazza acquisitions, they were going to enjoy a week there on their own, he was glad that both his name and hers each carried enough weight to get them the finest villa on the property.

Although, honestly, he didn't understand the point of having two bedrooms but five bathrooms. Granted, the tubs _were_ big enough to sleep in, and a family of four could probably inhabit the massive bath chambers, but still.

It was a little excessive.

They'd let him dismiss the hotel-supplied butler, which was a good thing. Jake didn't make a habit of trusting those not on his payroll. Currently, his small security detail was stationed around the property and on the casino grounds. The Bellagio management had balked at first at the thought of his bodyguards patrolling the grounds with their own men, but Jake hadn't relented and they'd caved quickly enough.

He was comfortable taking certain risks when it came to his own safety – whenever he stayed at the hotel on his own, he only had Chase or Penn with him – but not so when it came to Amalia's.

She was finishing getting ready and they would go to the hotel for dinner in about half an hour. Afterwards, they'd hit the casino and spend the night playing and mingling with the rest of the high-rollers. They'd return at some point and Jake figured that after Amalia was fast asleep, he'd return to the Office for a poker game with the insomniac high-rollers. What was a game of poker without ridiculously high table limits, after all?

He walked through the marble foyer, passing under the massive glass chandelier, right past the living room with the forty-inch plasma and the formal dining room, and into the master bedroom. There were his and hers marble bathrooms and he found Amalia standing in front of her mirror in a red dress, putting on a pair of large ruby earrings shaped like teardrops.

She saw him in the mirror and smiled, and Jake came up behind her. He slipped his arms around her narrow waist, pulling her close so that her back rested against his chest as she put the second earring on, and brushed his lips over her shoulder.

He nuzzled her neck as she reached for the lock, inhaling the sweet but tart scent of jasmine that she usually wore.

"I don't get it, Chief," Jake murmured, his lips skimming up the curve of her neck to her earlobe, avoiding the massive jewels. "How did she manage to rob the Luxor, the Venetian, _and_ the Bellagio, and still look so hot doing it?"

Amalia laughed and brought her hands to rest over his, watching his lips feather over her skin in the mirror. Slowly, she turned in his arms and brought her hands up to cup his face. Jake kissed her slowly, deeply, gently backing her up against the cool counter, his hands possessively skimming down her sides over that rich red fabric.

His leg slid between hers and his hips began to press just slightly into hers, and Amalia speared her fingers through his thick, sandy hair. Jake moved his hands to the counter, his tall frame leaning persistently into hers until Amalia was on her toes, almost sitting on the cool marble, and only then did she plant her hands on his chest and push for him to stop.

"Jake." She held a single long finger out in warning in front of his face. "No. _No_. We are actually _leaving_ the hotel room today."

His lower lip stuck out just slightly and he gave her a look of heart-breaking sweetness, puppy dog eyes and all, but Amalia stood firm.

"No." She squeezed out from between him and the counter where he'd trapped her and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom. "We're going to have dinner and then we're going to the casino. That's what's going to happen."

"Fine," he agreed, letting her pull him along. "But when we get back, we are putting those rainforest Swiss steam showers to use. I don't even know what the hell they are, but we're putting them to use, damn it."

Amalia laughed, still holding his hand, and they wound their way past the exercise room and the private salon, back into the grand foyer. "Oh, come on."

He waited patiently while she opened the closet and pulled out a pair of subdued, dark red heels that complemented the short dress quite well. It felt so incredible to be away from Port Charles, away from his lawyers, away from his business (which was in Chase's very capable hands), away from everything for a few days. Sure, he was still keyed in to the organization and had already started missing it, but these lazy vacations with Amalia were very few and very far between.

They'd come a long way from spreading out sleeping bags at the foot of the Catskills and enjoying a bottle of champagne under the moon.

She looked beautiful tonight, as she always did. He knew it had taken a bit of work for her to get away from Crimson Pointe and her father for this little vacation, which was why he was so glad it had worked out.

Amalia had set this up on her own, saying that he'd been buried up to his eyeballs with work and she hadn't gotten to see him for the better part of a month. But there was something sad and distant in her eyes when she told him that they were going to Vegas and his jet was waiting, and Jake couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was or what it meant.

That familiar sense of foreboding that had crept up on him last when she told him, outside the MetroCourt, that she just couldn't do this anymore, settled in his stomach whenever he thought about it.

Tonight, he pushed it away firmly, determined to show her the best time he could. Dinner and gambling and an amazing mini-villa seemed to fit the bill quite nicely.

She had pulled on her shoes, flashing him an excellent view of her backside as she did so, and Amalia straightened and smiled at him, looking adorably confused, when she saw how he was looking at her.

"What?"

Jake shook his head and reached for her hand, and the headlights from the chauffeured car glittered through the glass and onto the wall next to him.

"Nothing." He squeezed her fingers in his. "I'm so glad we're here."

Amalia smiled warmly as he pulled her closer and led her out into the warm Las Vegas night.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

"Sir."

Jake looked up from the file in front of him. "Yeah?"

"Your brother is here," the junior guard informed him. "He's waiting in the guest parlor."

"Show him to the library," he instructed, starting to put the papers away. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Yes, sir, Mister Morgan."

He finished putting everything away and then headed to his cooler, grabbing two frosty bottles of Midnight Sun Earth. Having a state of the art mini refrigerator installed right into his office cabinets was definitely one of the best decisions he'd ever made.

Cameron was standing by the grand windows in the library, looking out at the forest, when Jake entered, and he turned around with a wide smile. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Jake replied, giving him a quick hug and then handing off one of the bottles. "How's everything? Sorry I didn't get a chance to drop by and see you earlier."

Cameron waved it off. "I've had surgeries lined up every day, you've been in Vegas, it's fine. We're both free now. How was the trip, by the way?"

"Amazing," Jake replied without reserve. "We stayed in one of the Bellagio villas. Had a great time. It was so good to get away from everything."

"Well, you earned it," his brother shrugged. "We didn't even get to see you for almost a month. If anyone deserved a nice break, it was you."

He took a sip of his beer and glanced at his brother, who was nodding absently. "How's Lia?"

"Good," he replied automatically. "I think she needed to get away for a bit, too. The change in scenery did us both some good. You know, I've decided, I should go to Vegas more often. I'm only there on business, and I only stay a night or two, and I work the whole way through. I've never really had time to enjoy it. It's a great city. You should get out there, too. Tell you what, next time, it'll be me and Lia and you and Moll. You'll love it. Moll already does – I've sent her out there on her own a couple times to handle things for me. She knows all the best places."

"I might take you up on that," Cameron agreed. "I've always wanted to go. I almost did once – almost drove out there after my first year at Johns Hopkins with a couple of the other guys. Road trip. But then Mom found out and freaked, so I didn't."

Jake snorted at that. "Yeah, well. This time, she can't really stop you."

Cameron nodded at that, moving aside as Jake rounded the corner of the desk and sat down. "So…what's new with you?"

"Not much."

"Yeah?" He set the beer down and folded his arms over his chest, unable to hide his smile. "So…an upcoming feature in a respected publication, that wouldn't be new?"

Jake smirked. "You heard."

"That they're making you TIME Magazine's Person of the Year for 2038?" Cameron was grinning now. "Yeah, I heard! I heard a rumor about it, actually, from Spencer, and I thought I'd come by and see if it was true. It's real? It's really happening, isn't it?"

"It's really happening," Jake nodded with an easy smile. "I got the call while we were in Vegas. They told me not to mention it to anyone – they want to keep it under wraps until the issue comes out. You know how these things are."

Cameron nodded. "Yeah, yeah."

"There's a lot to do," he murmured. "Presumably, they'll want to have the interview done at the house, which means I've got to make this place a little more friendly. Maybe get rid of some of the guards for that day. We'll have to keep the interview date quiet, just in case anyone gets any ideas…"

His brother knew what he meant. "Yeah. You don't want anyone taking advantage of your light security detail on that day."

Jake nodded. "Yup. Plus, the issue's coming out at the end of the year, but I kind of want the interview to be done a little ahead of time. It'll work out well for both of us. And I think a Christmas-feel to it would be nice, all things considered. If I set up the interview for early December, that means I should probably have this place done up for the season around that time, which means I'll have to call my decorator in advance…"

"You have a decorator?"

"Of course," he snorted. "Do you think I hang up the lights myself every year? God, there's so much land, and this is such a big house, I wouldn't even know where to begin. No, no, I have this great decorator that Ceece found for me. He manages the landscaping and the lights and he picks out all the trees that go in the house. I'll have to get him over here as soon as I can."

He shook his head, looking a little surprised all of a sudden. "Man. Person of the Year. Can you believe it?"

"I can, actually," his brother smiled. "You've worked long and hard to get here. People are taking notice."

Jake nodded at that, troubling his lower lip. "I guess."

"You beat everyone else we know," Cameron piped up lightly. "Jax, Johnny, Sonny, Spence, Edward – none of them were ever even close to being Person of the Year, from what I hear."

"Jason could have been," Jake murmured thoughtfully. He reached for his beer, wrapping his hand carefully around the bottle and letting the coolness sink into his skin. "He really could have. He had everything going for him."

"Why didn't he, do you think?"

This made him snort again. "Because he's fucking allergic to working on his public image. You know him – you think he'd put on a suit and pose for the camera and hand out little soundbytes? God, no. He thinks that's beneath him. It explains why he never made it out of the Tri-State area. He could have if he wanted to. He could have been so much more than what he was. Or is."

He sighed and took a long pull from his bottle. "Jason was stupid in the sense that he didn't buy into the value of playing the game. There's nothing wrong with it. If you play the game, you're smart. If you play the game from _both_ sides, you're really smart. So many men in our line of work stick to their own corner of the playground and insist that this kind of stuff – being in the public eye, giving interviews, doing magazine spreads, holding press conferences – is ineffective and stupid."

"It's worked pretty well for you."

"Exactly," Jake agreed. "I've built much of my business model around it. I don't resist this sort of thing; I never have. I always played by two sets of rules: mine and theirs. The rest of the guys, they try to play by their own rules and then they wonder why they're not known or liked. To get that kind of reaction back, you have to be willing to put yourself out there. I bust my ass working on my public image."

"You mean, Molly and Kay bust their asses working on your public image," Cameron smirked.

Jake allowed that with a laugh. "Well, yeah, obviously. They were the one that engineered my image, sure, but I'm the one responsible for broadcasting that image. I'm seen as a mobster. I'm seen by some to not be a very nice person at all. And with reason."

Cameron knew he was mincing words just to keep both of them safe. Jake didn't talk as candidly about his business anymore as he used to.

"But I'm not camera-shy. I have no problem appearing on television and giving interviews. I have no problem smiling at the paparazzi when I'm in New York. I have no problem making appearances or agreeing to photoshoots. I make myself accessible to try to cover the not-so-appealing aspects of my life and my personality. And it works. God, does it work."

"If anything, this spread's proof of that," Cameron noted. "And all those mentions of People's Sexiest Man don't hurt, either."

Jake rolled his eyes. Cameron often made fun of him for those accolades.

"It softens me, I think. Being accessible that way, it makes people feel that I'm that open and honest and approachable about everything in my life, which is far from the truth. But that kind of public image has gotten me, among other things, respect from different people in different circles who would have turned their noses up at me just like they did to Jason, because he wasn't seen to be remotely legitimate."

"Like the Wall Street guys you work with sometimes."

He nodded. "I get invitations to important, exclusive events, I can drop my name in any major city and get the star treatment, and I can even swing invitations to the Bellagio villas. Stupid things like that just because I can clean up how I look in public."

"And it's gotten you a shit-ton of stuff, too," Cameron joked, gesturing to the massive room. "The charms of the not-so-easy life."

Jake had to smile at that. "Yeah. Yeah, it's gotten me a shit-ton of stuff. Stuff I never thought I'd want. Some stuff that I don't even want, but have anyway. Funny how that happens."

"Honestly?" Cameron sat on the desk, his long legs touching the floor easily. "You may say that I've just been hanging out with Mal too much, but I think a lot of that stems from your rebellion against your middle-class roots."

"My rebellion against my middle-class roots?" Jake repeated, making a face. "What are you, my biographer?"

"I'm serious," Cameron insisted. "Jason was definitely upper-class according to tax bracket if not public image and social connections. Mom was and is decidedly middle-class. Lower middle-class, actually. She raised us that way, with those morals, and I know you've always felt that she poured a lot of her unrequited love for Jason into raising us as very…under-the-radar. Average, middle-class kids. And the whole time, you knew you weren't one. You knew that if they hadn't messed things up, you'd be growing up in a penthouse and going to Yale simply because your father made a phone call and sitting on a fat trust fund."

"We both would have," Jake corrected.

"Whatever the situation might have been," Cameron persisted. "That was the image you had of yourself, or for yourself. And it clashed so dramatically with the middle-class lifestyle Mom exemplified and encouraged. Is it so strange that you've accumulated so much in terms of status and possessions? I think it was fairly inevitable, given what you knew about yourself."

"You _have_ been spending too much time with Mal."

"He's not wrong, you know," his brother said gently. "And he's always around if you need him."

"I do need him," Jake agreed, perking his brother up but dashing his hopes with the next remark. "As a friend. That's it."

Cameron sighed and took another pull from his beer. "…So? What's next?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it took you forever to get everything together after Carmine died," he explained. "What are you going to do now?"

"Run it," Jake replied simply. "He left me half the country, really. With his land and routes and stocks, I can basically connect all my business holdings in New England with my ELQ and business holdings in Chicago, with my business holdings in Vegas. I'm almost coast-to-coast now. All I have left to do is solidify the base and make sure things stay cohesive. Then maybe I can move farther south into Texas, or up north, into Canada. I'll probably move into Canada first. Fuck Texas. They've got great steaks down there, but crazy laws. Canada it is."

"And then? After Canada?"

Jake didn't realize that Cameron was only half-serious. "Abroad. I'll have more connections in Italy before long, so there's always that. And I'm already well-respected there, ever since I started working with Carmine, really. Even more so now."

"I wasn't really – never mind."

Jake frowned slightly. "What?"

"Nothing. I just…" Cameron shook his head. "I just have to wonder…Everything you own, everything you do, everything you've set up…when is enough, enough?"

Realization dawned and Jake smiled slowly. "More."

"Well, I get that," his brother replied. "But when is enough, _enough_?"

Jake shook his head, knowing that his brother didn't fully get it. "No, no, you don't understand: _More._"

Cameron sat back a little, his expression troubled. "…Oh."

Jake nodded, sounding a little sad. "Yup."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Port Charles, somewhere by the park :.**

Johnny linked his hands behind his back as he walked down the sidewalk with Jake. It was a cold night, but beautiful, and they were both wearing overcoats and scarves. They'd just had dinner at the Grille and Jake suggested coffee and a walk, to which Johnny had agreed.

"I'm trying to get Claudia to join us for Thanksgiving," he was saying. "Just like she used to when all of you were kids."

Jake took a sip of his coffee, smirking. "She's still resisting, huh?"

"Well, whenever she comes to stay with us, we always stay as a family at the house on Cherry Blossom Lane," he explained. "And she hates living like a middle-class person."

That always made Jake laugh. "Must be torture for her, really. You should be more sensitive about that."

Johnny grinned. "It's good for her to go a week making her own bed and fixing her own lunch. Builds character."

"She's trying to get you guys to join her in Milan, huh?"

"Yeah." He pulled his hands forward and into his pockets. "I think I might cave again this year. It's nice in Milan now. Not freezing like it is here. God bless upstate New York and the eighteen feet of snow we get dumped on us."

"Thanksgiving in Milan will be nice," Jake agreed. "And it's not like Lia needs any excuse to pack everything up and go visit Claudia."

"You should come with us," Johnny suggested as they rounded the corner, giving him a sidelong look to gauge his reaction. It wouldn't be the first trip Jake would take to Italy with the Zacchara family, but it would be the first holiday trip. "If we end up going to Milan for Thanksgiving with Claudie. You should come, too. She'd love to have you, always does."

"I might take you up on that," he agreed lightly. "It's always good to see Claudia. She hasn't been to the States in years. It's too bad, really. I always enjoy seeing her."

"We're trying to get her out here," Johnny shrugged. "But you know how she is."

"Yeah." Jake looked over at the park, seeing the baseball diamond covered with snow. They'd spent so many summer afternoons and nights on the diamond, all of them, ever since they'd first joined Little League.

It was a co-ed league, which meant that Amalia joined up, too. Jake remembered how happy Johnny was about that at the time; in retrospect, he realized it was because Anthony had never let Johnny out of the house to play with other children at that age, and certainly not on something as uncouth and barbaric and useless as a Little League baseball team.

He remembered the very first game. Cameron had been at a friend's house, so he didn't come to see. Mal was first baseman and Spencer was the catcher. Morgan had been an outfielder, and a surprisingly good one at that. Sonny, Carly, Jax, Elizabeth, Robin, Patrick, Nadine, Nikolas, and Johnny had all been in attendance to cheer the kids on.

Jason had come, too, dragging Michael along with him, and Jake remembered how Jason only cheered on Morgan and Spencer. It had stung so badly then; the memory of it still did.

Johnny Zacchara, however, had inadvertently made up for it, and then some.

As if conscious of the fact that Jake didn't have a father there cheering him on, he made sure to whoop extra loudly whenever Jake was up to bat. Jax, Sonny, Nikolas, and Patrick followed suit when they saw Johnny stand up to cheer Jake on.

And when their team had won and the parents walked on to the field to collect and congratulate their kids, Jake still remembered how Nadine had hugged Amalia and how Johnny had swept him up in his arms, high against his shoulder, and then announced that he was taking everyone out for pizza and slushies.

And Jake remembered the look on Jason's face as Johnny Zacchara affectionately set him on his shoulders, and it almost made up for the fact that his own father had never once clapped or cheered for him during that game.

He looked over at him now, John Anthony Vitale Zacchara, still strong and strapping at six-foot-three and almost sixty years of age, with salt and pepper hair and kind, crinkled eyes.

This was the man, more than any other, that had stepped into his life and remained a constant, solid, dependable and loving presence. He'd always been around for Jake whenever he needed him. He'd always offered kind advice and he'd always welcomed him into his home…except when Jake was a hormonal teenager and Elizabeth scared the crap out of Johnny by mentioning condoms.

He'd shared everything he had with Jake, even his family, and for a moment Jake couldn't quite swallow past the lump in his throat. This man was the only one in his life that even came close to being worthy enough to be his father. This man was the one that proved to Jake that it was possible to be a ruthless and incredibly successful man in this lifestyle and still be a father, a brother, a husband, a friend, and an inspiration.

If he'd learned anything when it came to the grace of being able to make it through the sort of life he'd chosen for himself – the sort of life he'd stolen for himself – it was all because of Johnny Zacchara.

"Hey, John."

He glanced at him kindly. "Yeah?"

"I was wondering…" Jake's grip on his coffee cup tightened. "Are you free anytime next week? Say, around Friday, at night?"

"I think so," Johnny replied slowly. "Why?"

"I was hoping to set up an appointment with you," he replied lightly. "You know, drop by the house in Crimson Pointe and see you."

Johnny laughed. "Jake, you don't have to set up an appointment with me. Just drop by like you usually do. I'll make time for you."

"No," he insisted, "I really would like to set up an appointment with you. Do you think Friday at eight would work?"

"I'm pretty sure it would," he finally said. "What's all this about?"

"Nothing. I just…I'd just like to sit down with you."

Johnny shrugged, slightly confused but happy to brush it off. "Sure thing. You know my door's always open to you."

"I know," Jake smiled, suddenly feeling lighter than he had in a long time.


	82. I Can't Make it to Your Wedding

**Mean | 81**

_Well, all that icing_

_And all that cake._

_I can't make it to your wedding_

_But I'm sure I'll be at your wake._

-- "Bukowski," Modest Mouse

**.: Crimson Manor, Crimson Pointe :.**

"Okay." Nadine played with a lock of hair as Johnny and Amalia milled around her in the family's private den, about to settle down for an after-dinner glass of port. "Yeah, no, I've kept you up too long. But, seriously, Claudie, consider coming out to Port Charles for Thanksgiving. You know we'd love to come to Milan again, but it's been forever since you've been at the house. And Thanksgiving's just a couple days away…"

She listened some more, breaking out in a smile. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Okay, I'll let you go. Talk to you soon. Bye."

"Well?" Amalia took the glass her father handed her and looked expectantly at her mother. "What did she say? Is she coming?"

"I don't think so," Nadine sighed, putting the phone back in the cradle. "You know how she is. Stubborn. She says she wants us at the house on Thanksgiving morning."

"We still have a couple days," Amalia pointed out. "I bet we could sway her."

"I bet _you_ could sway her," Johnny corrected, taking a seat next to his wife. "Claudia doesn't listen to us, but she's always done what you asked."

"That's because she likes to think of you as her little doppelganger," Nadine grinned, making Amalia laugh.

"I'll work on her," she promised. "Aunt Claudie won't know what hit her."

"In the event that we don't end up convincing her, though, it might be smart to pack a few things," Johnny suggested. "We can take the jet out the afternoon before Thanksgiving and get there by nighttime. Oh, and I invited Jake along with us, so we might want to let him know to do the same."

Nadine and Amalia stared at Johnny as he innocently sipped his port. "You invited Jake along?"

He nodded. "Yeah. He's coming over to the house on Friday night, anyway. I bet he can be packed up and ready to leave by Saturday afternoon. And Claudia would love to have him over. She's always on her best behavior when he's around, too, I've noticed. Huh."

Nadine looked at Amalia, who shrugged.

"Maybe Jake should be the one to invite her to Port Charles," Amalia joked. "He's got as good a shot as I do."

"We should get him on that," Johnny laughed. "Although, you know, I do hate how Claudie jerks us around every year. We always get the house ready for her every year and then we end up schlepping out to Milan."

"If she does show up this year, we should throw a post-Thanksgiving, pre-Christmas party at the house," Nadine suggested. "Just a nice winter party, get everyone together for the heck of it, since we'll probably be in Italy for Christmas, anyway. Who knows, maybe we can invite Jason and Elizabeth. They're kind of an official couple now, aren't they?"

"You might want to hold off on that," Amalia murmured, settling back with her drink. "Even if you invited her, I doubt Elizabeth would come. She hates Aunt Claudie."

"Well, yeah, a lot of people in this town dislike your aunt," Johnny allowed. "But that's from so long ago. And Claudia hasn't even been here in several years."

Amalia shook her head. "No, no. Remember when Jake went out to his place in Milan and Aunt Claudie wanted to go to the opera with him?"

"Sure."

"One of the society rags here got a hold of some paparazzi shots," she explained. "Jake was telling me that Elizabeth found the picture of him and Aunt Claudie and basically blew a gasket. She went on and on about how she's such a horrible woman and how much she hates Aunt Claudie and all of that until Jake basically told her to leave. Inviting her over wouldn't be such a great idea. Besides, Mom, I can't figure out why you even want to bother."

Nadine frowned. "What do you mean? Elizabeth and I were really good friends."

"Exactly – _were_," Amalia emphasized. "When we were all kids. When she found out that you two knew what she did and didn't tell her that you knew, she flipped out and stopped talking to you completely. It was completely hypocritical and ridiculous to her, and she's never apologized or made any kind of overtures after that. Why you'd even entertain the thought of being nice to her and bringing her back into your circle is beyond me."

Johnny shrugged. "Don't look at me – she was always your mother's friend more than she was mine. And you know me: I tried not to get too involved when it all fell apart. If she doesn't want to talk to us, that's her choice. But on the other hand, I'm not going to ignore her, either."

Amalia rolled her eyes and finished off the last of her wine. "That's fine. All I'm saying is that you might want to hold off on inviting her to any party if Aunt Claudie's in attendance."

"We're getting a little ahead of ourselves here," Johnny pointed out. "As far as we know, your Aunt Claudie has no plans to return to Port Charles any time soon."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Oceanside Towers, Penthouse 2 :.**

"I'm really going to do it."

"I know," Morgan grinned at his best friend, whose knee was bouncing up and down with nervous energy. "Don't take this the wrong way, but it's about damn fucking time. You've put that girl through hell."

Jake snorted. "I-"

"Jake." He leaned forward in his armchair, feeling that this part was non-negotiable. "You put Li through hell. You did since even before you guys officially started dating. In fact, if you look up 'long-suffering' on Wikipedia, there's a picture of her."

"Well…" He shifted in his seat and looked sheepish. "Yeah."

"Can I ask you something?" Morgan adjusted his grip on the beer that Jake had brought over, an interesting IPA called Firestone Walker.

Jake poked around in the last container of Thai food and, finding nothing, set it back on the table with the rest of the trash. "Sure."

"Why now?" Morgan stretched his legs out, his socked feet resting comfortably on the coffee table between them, ankles crossed. "Why not…I don't know. Why not right out of Yale? Or before you became partner? Or after? Or before or immediately after you were in charge of the whole business? What makes now the perfect time?"

"A lot of things," Jake replied. "I couldn't marry Lia right out of Yale, when I started working for your dad. I didn't have anything. I was still living at home. I wouldn't be able to keep her in the style she was accustomed to."

"Somehow, I doubt she would have cared," he drawled.

"She wouldn't have, but I did," Jake persisted. "And I couldn't marry her when you made me partner. It was too soon. I was untested. I hadn't made a name for myself. And after I took over the whole business, there was too much to be done. Plus, I was given ELQ to juggle."

"But you were just recently given Carmine's assets to juggle," Morgan pointed out.

"That's different," he disagreed. "Now, it's all here. It's all complete. My organization stretches from Cape Cod to Las Vegas. It's solid. I have the name: everyone who's anyone knows who I am. I have the resume: my accomplishments speak for themselves. I have the financial assets: Lia wouldn't be taking a step down if she agreed to marry me. She'd retain her lifestyle and her place in society, all of that. Even if it doesn't matter to her," he added when Morgan opened his mouth to protest.

"And in addition to all that, I have been working very closely not only with Johnny but with his entire team during this acquisition period," he pointed out. "John got to see first-hand what I'm like as a businessman. And he got to see that I know what I'm doing, sure, that's important. But he also got to see that I can work with his people. He lent me his legal and financial teams and he saw how seamlessly it worked. He should know from that experience that if he were to hand me part or all of his business, the transition would be comparable in terms of ease."

"So _that_ was why you made sure his guys were always with you," Morgan murmured.

"Duh," Jake snorted. "You know me – I always have ulterior motives. Even if I have legitimate motives, there's always an ulterior one somewhere. Lurking."

His best friend laughed. "Fair enough. So now that you're almost coast-to-coast and you showed John that you can work with his people, it's suddenly the perfect time to marry Lia?"

"Pretty much," Jake replied. "Everything's fallen in place. I've been working for years to get to this point. And I'm finally here."

"Have you told anyone else? Besides me and Cam?"

"Mike."

"Really? What'd he say?"

"You know how he is right now," Jake chuckled. "He's completely in love with Eden. And her son. Kid's name is Timothy, right?"

Morgan nodded at the mention of the little boy his older brother was planning on adopting. "Yup. When they get married, he and Eden are going to change his last name to Corinthos. Make it official."

"Yeah, I thought I remembered him saying that. Anyway, Mike knows. He said it was a long time coming and he was glad I finally had my head out of my ass."

"Sounds like my brother," Morgan smirked. "Any other gems from Captain Lovesick?"

"Mainly, he was just happy that the two of us would be getting married kind of close together," Jake replied. "He and Eden have a summer wedding planned in Kent and Port Charles, and he figures me and Lia will get married somewhere around there, too. Also, he said to remember to let Lia do whatever the hell she wants with the wedding. He says if she wants me to wear a suit with coattails, to wear a suit with coattails."

"Sound advice." Morgan's socked feet swayed back and forth. "You told anyone else?"

"Nope. Just you, Cam, and Mike. Figure I'll tell Spence, too. He's probably got some good advice. He and Laur have been married for a couple years now and they're still going strong, so he's got to be doing something right. Oh, and Moll and Kay know, mostly because they have to know about any future changes to the organization, if I can foresee them."

"Got it," he nodded. "…You're not going to tell Uncle Jason?"

Jake shrugged and took another pull from his bottle. "He can find out when everyone else does."

"You know, I've kind of been wondering what he'd think on the matter," Morgan admitted. "On one hand, I know that, obviously, he'll be happy that you're happy. That's a given. But on the other, I figure it's got to be another nail in the coffin."

"What do you mean? Because of her family?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I mean, it's just another reminder. He did everything he could to keep you out of the mob. He let Uncle Lucky raise you, for fuck's sake, let you have his name. Stayed away from you and your mom and Cameron almost your whole life. Did every single thing he could to keep you away from that kind of life, away from people like John, who'll be your father-in-law, and away from people that he hates, like Claudia Zacchara, and now you're all grown and marrying everyone's favorite mob princess."

Jake smirked at that. "Yeah. Funny how that worked out. Personally, I'm thinking Jason can suck it."

Morgan laughed. "Fair enough, don't really know what I expected. I guess it's enough that you're actually doing this, after shying away from anything romantic with Li since you two started dating."

"I don't shy away from-"

"You've never even told her you love her," Morgan pointed out. "That certifies you a grade-A pussy. You better work on that, man."

"I…will," Jake said slowly. "If I don't fuck things up, I'll have the rest of my life to work on that."

"John will be happy," his best friend pointed out. "He likes you. Always has. And he wanted someone like you for his son-in-law. At least now, he won't push that Bruno jackass at Lia. That guy's a piece of work."

"Ugh, I don't want to talk about Bruno," he groaned. "He's done. Thing of the past. Lia will never have to see him again if I have anything to say about it."

He played with his bottle, watching the liquid swirl. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"…I'm really glad he's going to be my father-in-law."

His best friend smiled at that. "I know you are."

They sat together for a long time, each one staring contemplatively at his beer. It was a bittersweet moment for both: proof that, yet again, their lives were taking off in different directions, immutably changing and hopefully for the better.

Finally, Morgan smiled. "You're getting married."

Jake smiled back. "…I'm gettin' married."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :. **

"Cameron said that he was named TIME's Person of the Year, but not to tell anyone," Elizabeth said excitedly as Jason approached the bed. Dressed in gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, he pulled off his socks and got under the covers with her.

"Really?"

She nodded, adjusting the pillow behind her back as they sat against the headboard. "He did say not to tell anyone, so don't let it slip. TIME is trying to keep it under wraps."

"When did Cam find out?"

"A few days ago, he heard a rumor from Spencer, who'd heard it from one of his friends at the magazine, I think," she explained. "He asked Jake and Jake said it was true."

"Wow." Jason fluffed the comforter in his lap, trying not to take any of hers and failing. "That's a really big deal."

"I know, isn't it?" Elizabeth played with the ends of her ponytail. "I still can't believe it. My son – our son – is TIME's Person of the Year. It's so…"

She looked over at the picture of Cameron and Jake when they were eight and ten that she always kept on her nightstand. "…Incredible."

Jason followed her gaze to the picture. "Yeah. It is. Good for him, though. He's worked really hard for it."

"I can't wait to read the article," she said, clapping her hands lightly. "It better come out soon."

"I wonder if he's even done the interview yet," Jason mused.

"I don't know." The corners of Elizabeth's mouth curved downward. "You know, he didn't even tell us himself. I had to hear it from Cameron, and you had to hear it from me."

"Yeah, well." Jason shrugged. He hadn't really expected Jake to tell him anything about this, anyway, so it was no great loss for him. "You know how he is."

"I'm glad he's at least out of the house now," she said quietly. "He must have locked himself up there for three weeks, easily. Just last night I saw him out to dinner with Cameron and Spencer and this morning he and Anna were having coffee outside of Kelly's."

Elizabeth resituated the comforter again, taking back her share from Jason, and sank down in the bed. "I was just hoping that once he was done with everything, he'd…I don't know, come by or something. Or call. I was hoping I'd actually see him more, or at least hear from him."

"I kind of wish that he was still working on all of that," Jason admitted. "I saw him more when he was."

"Because he needed your help?"

He nodded. "Yeah. He'd actually invite me over to his place. He'd usually have cold beer. Twice he even said to stay for dinner. His dog got to know me, too."

"Wolfe? He's a good dog," Elizabeth smiled. "Not as good as Teague, our old German Shepherd. He was such a good dog. Always got along great with all the kids. And with Johnny and Nadine's dog, too. Jake and Amalia would take them for walks together sometimes."

"Amalia was the one that gave Wolfe to him on his birthday, I think. He really loves that dog."

"He would." Elizabeth flicked her hair out of her face. "He always said she was a great gift-giver. He said that about Johnny, too. And did you know, all of those wines he has in his cellar? I mean, the really good Italian ones? Claudia sends him a bunch every year."

Jason nodded slowly. "…He's on good terms with Johnny, so that doesn't surprise me, that he'd be on good terms with Claudia, too."

"You know, about Wolfe, I didn't even know that he'd gotten a dog. I just went to his house one day and was almost tackled by this huge beast, and Jake ordered him out of the room and said, oh, by the way, Mom, I got a dog. Seriously. I had no idea."

"Yeah."

She twiddled her thumbs, her gaze growing distant. "You know, I never thought it could be this way. Me and the boys were always so close when they were growing up. I spent so much time with them, I knew everything that was going on in their lives…"

"Well…not everything." It was an uncomfortable thing to say, but it was true all the same.

"Yeah." She gazed down at her hands. "Not everything. And much less now. About Jake, at any rate. Cameron, he still tells me everything. Although, who knows, maybe he only does that because he sees me for eight hours every day at work, and there's no escape."

"Don't say that. He doesn't want to escape from you."

"Sure feels like Jake does, sometimes."

"He's just…private," Jason suggested. "There are a lot of things he can't talk to you about. Just like me. I wouldn't ever tell you anything about the business. And later, you started telling me that you didn't want to know, which was fine. Jake's the same way."

"I don't want to know about his business. Really, I don't," she said plainly. "But I do want to know about his life. Apparently, that's too much to ask for. He never tells me anything anymore, and it feels like whenever I go to see him, we just fight and he has me escorted out. My own son kicks me out of his house."

"He doesn't kick you out of his house," Jason disagreed. "It's just…different. He's busy. He can't sit around and have long discussions while he's trying to get his work done. A lot of the stuff he's handling – it's time-sensitive. And maybe arguing with you distracts him, and he knows he can't afford to be preoccupied so he just goes back to work. Remember how you used to say that sometimes, when you went to see Sonny, he'd try to get the conversation over and done with as quickly as he could and then get Max to walk you to your car? It's like that."

"Sonny's not my son," Elizabeth said stubbornly. "I expect differently from Jake. Maybe that's the problem…"

They sat together in silence for a long moment as Jason thought of some way to cheer her up or make her feel better…or alternatively, change the subject.

"Hey, did you hear about Morgan and Anna?"

She turned a little in bed and grabbed his wrist. "Oh, my god, how have we not talked about this?"

Jason grinned back at her. "I don't know."

"Apparently they're a couple?" Elizabeth tucked her hair back behind her ear. "How did that happen?!"

"I don't know," he laughed.

"I've got a theory," she explained, holding her hands up to lay it out for him.

Jason turned a little more to face her, playing along. "Go ahead."

"I think it involved a champagne bottle and, wait for it," she cautioned. "…Anna smacking Morgan over the head with it."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Jake's Bar & Billiards :.**

"So we got a nice, tidy little apology from the _Gazette_," Morgan explained, "and upon closer inspection of the university by-laws and code of conduct for the faculty, Port Charles University discovered that it's not very interested in any follow-up disciplinary action against Anna."

"Mm," Amalia murmured, glancing over her shoulder toward a darkened corner of the bar.

Morgan smirked and leaned a little toward her, snapping her out of it. "I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

She laughed with embarrassment and tucked her hair behind her ear. "No, no, not a bit. I'm so sorry, I just felt – forget it."

"What?"

"I just felt like I was being watched," she admitted, causing Morgan to quickly scan the bar out of habit, just like his father and Jason had taught him. "Like, I could feel someone's eyes on me the whole time I've been here."

"I don't see anyone other than the regulars…" Morgan murmured.

She touched his arm. "It's nothing, forget about it. It's been a long day, and it's probably just getting to me. I'm going to head home, I think. And I'm glad that this whole thing blew over. You and Anna don't need that."

Amalia crinkled her nose at those words. "You and Anna. Gosh, it still feels so weird saying that."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

She laughed and squeezed his hand before pulling away. "You know what I mean. See you later, okay?"

"Night, Lia."

He turned toward the bar as soon as Amalia left and no sooner did he set his glass down than he was practically accosted by his stepfather and Patrick Drake.

The two men flanked him immediately and Morgan eyed first one, than the other.

"Uh…can I help either of you?"

Never one to beat around the bush, Patrick folded his arm and turned Morgan around. Jax prevented him from escaping.

"So we hear that you've been seeing my daughter."

Morgan nodded. He'd been expecting this. "Ah."

Patrick and Jax watched him for a long moment. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to answer the question?"

"It wasn't really a question," he pointed out. "It was a statement. Hearsay, really."

"Morgan…"

He looked over at his stepfather. "What?"

"Look." Not knowing what to do with his hands, Patrick first put them in his pockets, then pulled them out and crossed his arms again. "I understand that you and Anna have some sort of a relationship. I want to know what your intentions are."

Ugh, he hadn't expected the I-word. Really, this was a bit much considering he and Anna had just started sleeping together a week ago.

"Okay." He waved off Coleman when he lifted a bottle of scotch, suggesting liquid fortification. He wouldn't be staying long after this awkward interrogation. "Let me be very clear with you both."

Jax and Patrick appeared to be listening very closely, and he hoped that they actually heard what he was saying, instead of what they wanted to hear.

"Yes, it's true that Anna and I have started seeing each other." He held up his hand when Patrick and Jax both opened their mouths. "But you should be aware of the fact that it's not serious. We're just two adults who have made a conscious decision to…spend more time together. So, I'm sorry if you had gotten your hopes up, but I'd like to remind you that neither Anna nor I did anything to cause that. And we would appreciate a little distance with regard to this situation. Thank you. Have a good night, both of you."

Patrick and Jax both glared at the back of his head as Morgan walked calmly out of the bar.

"That kid of yours," Patrick groused.

Jax just sighed. "That kid of mine."

"Can you believe that?" The arms were once again crossed. "It's not serious. _It's not serious and we'd appreciate a little distance._ These kids."

He snorted and shook his head as Jax nodded sagely in agreement. "How do you think this happened, anyway? We couldn't get them to stop fighting when they were kids."

Jax motioned for two glasses of scotch, figuring they both needed it. "Well, Elizabeth has a very promising theory involving a glass bottle and an act of violence."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Somewhere Between the Cliff Road and Port Charles :.**

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth!"

He found her passed out in her car along the Cliff Road, pulled way over on the gravel shoulder. Her door was unlocked – she often forgot to lock it before pulling out of the driveway – and he opened it quickly, trying to rouse her.

"Elizabeth?"

She was slumped over the steering wheel, still wearing her seatbelt, but didn't appear injured otherwise. The cold night air seemed to revive her a little because she let out a small moan as Jason gently reached around and set her free from the constricting belt.

"That's it." He braced her in his arms and pulled her back, away from the steering wheel so that she was propped up against her seat. "Elizabeth, can you hear me? Wake up, come on."

Her lashes fluttered and Jason's heart jumped. He brushed her hair away from her face and that was when he saw it: a nasty gash along her hairline, and dried blood cracking on her pale porcelain skin.

"Fuck."

He cradled her face in his hands, wincing at how cold she was, and tried even harder to revive her. "Elizabeth. Elizabeth, please, wake up. Just look at me."

Her lashes fluttered again and slowly, painfully slowly, her eyes opened. "J-Jason?'

"I'm here," he promised, not wanting her to think it was a dream and drift off again. "I'm right here."

"What happened?"

"You're in your car," he explained slowly. "You're on the Cliff Road. You pulled over and you have a cut on your head. Elizabeth, do you remember anything?"

"My head hurts," she murmured, biting back a sob as she gingerly touched the cut on her forehead. "It really hurts."

"We have to get you out of here," Jason muttered, looking around. "I'm going to get you set up in the backseat, okay? And then I'll drive us home. Someone can pick up my bike later."

"Mmm." She was still touching her forehead. "I…I don't think my car is working."

Jason reached around her and found the key in the ignition. He turned it and cursed when he heard only a choking, sputtering sound. He tried again, and then once more, but with the same results.

"I'm going to take a look." Hesitantly, he left her after making sure she was steady, and darted around to the front of the car. Even in the dark of the winter night, he could see the bad dent in the front fender, and the scrape on the drivers' side where she must have hit the guardrail for a bit before drifting back into her own lane.

Jesus Christ.

"The car's no good," he affirmed, hurrying back to her side. Elizabeth seemed more alert now, and her teeth had started chattering with the cold. Jason took this as a good sign. "We're going to have to leave it."

"What are we going to do?"

"First, we're going to get you warm." He pressed the button in the door and the trunk unlatched. Jason made his way over to the back of the car and drew out water bottles and two blankets, along with the first aid kit. He dumped them in the back and then made his way over to her.

He gathered her up in his arms carefully and slowly picked her up, walking slowly over to the back and helping her into the seat. He closed the driver's side door and joined her, pulling the door shut.

Elizabeth was trying to unfold the blanket, and Jason took it and wrapped her up in it. The Cliff Road was deserted tonight, and he was glad for that. It would give him some time to figure this out.

"How are we going to get out of here?" she wanted to know. "I can try to ride with you on your bike-"

Jason shook his head. "I'm not taking any chances. I shouldn't have even taken it out on a night like this, but I just felt like riding. Don't worry, I'll fix this."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and would have called Max or Milo when he remembered that they were in Miami. Ritchie had retired to Tucson on the generous package he'd received from Morgan and Jake, as had many of the men formerly on his payroll.

Fortunately, nothing like this had come up in a very long time, and when it had, Jake had always been around to handle it. But Jason didn't want Jake to know about this yet, if ever, and that made the situation much more difficult. Without an address book full of bodyguards at his beck and call…Jason wasn't sure what he'd do.

First, he'd need someone to check Elizabeth out. He could ask Patrick or Robin, but there was a problem with that. He'd seen blood on the fender of Elizabeth's car, and he didn't want to take chances involving anyone else.

Cameron, for that reason, was also out. He didn't want Elizabeth's son involved in this, just in case it turned into something bigger. Memories of the night that Monica accidentally hit Sam came flooding back to him and he reverted to that frame of mind: this was on a strictly need-to-know basis.

He punched a few numbers into his cell and waited.

"Francis." Jason could feel Elizabeth's eyes on him. "Meet me at 234 Cherry Blossom. Bring your medical kit. Yeah."

When they'd been on assignment and needed a doctor in a pinch, Francis was the one that filled in. Sonny had gotten him basic medical training for that reason, and Francis had always been very good at that sort of thing. Besides, he was still loyal to Jason and had nothing to do with Jake's organization anymore. Jason knew he could be trusted.

He needed to call someone to get him out of here, but his contact list was limited. There were a number of men that he'd worked with before that he could call, but the problem was that those men worked for Jake now and would tell his son everything in a heartbeat.

Finally, he remembered an old friend of his from the days when he kept his own auto and bike repair shop. He wasn't one of their mechanics that managed the organization's fleet of cars, but that was perfect: this man had no ties to Jake and never did. It wouldn't be at all suspicious.

Jason found the number and dialed, praying that someone would pick up.

"Joe? Joe, it's Jason. Jason Morgan. Yeah." He rubbed his arm up and down Elizabeth's side, trying to warm her. "I have a problem and I need your help. I need you to get the tow truck and meet me on the Cliff Road, about seventeen miles from the Oceanshore Drive exit. There's been an accident."

He let out a huff of frustration. "Yeah, I know you close at five, Joe. I wouldn't have called you – no, it can't wait until morning. I need you to get the tow truck and meet me here. The car's in bad shape, and I need you to tow it to your garage. No, not my place, _your place_. Just tow it to your garage and leave it in there, okay? Yeah. I'll pay you triple your rate. You'll be dropping me off at 234 Cherry Blossom, got it? Yes, I said triple. Okay. Hurry."

Jason flipped his phone shut and wrapped both arms around Elizabeth. "Don't worry. He'll be here soon."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

By the time they got home, it was nine o'clock at night. Joe had towed Elizabeth's car to his garage for repairs, under strict instruction from Jason that he not ask questions, not tell anyone, and just fix it. Once the car was safely hidden at his place, he dropped Jason and Elizabeth off at her house.

Francis was there waiting for them, and he followed Jason into the house, kneeling in front of his old charge as soon as Jason set her down on the sofa.

After examining her, Francis deduced that she had a grade 3 concussion. It was particularly serious because according to Jason, she had lost consciousness. He cleaned the cut on her forehead and applied a butterfly clip and told Jason to get her to the hospital for a CT scan.

Elizabeth, who was doing much better now, insisted that she was fine and, seeing as how she'd treated many a concussion at the hospital, she could handle the situation on her own.

The former bodyguard could sense that this wasn't a random car accident. "You don't have to tell me, but can I ask what happened?"

Jason sighed and rubbed his forehead. Francis was one of his oldest bodyguards and he knew he could trust him: none of this would get back to Jake in any event.

"I found her on the Cliff Road, passed out in her car," he explained, looking down at Elizabeth. "Do you remember crashing at all?"

"Vaguely," she said with a frown. "I remember…I remember I was trying to work the GPS because I'd missed my exit, and then I think I hit a patch of ice, because I lost control of the car."

Jason sat down next to her and Elizabeth tried to remember as much as she could. "There was a scraping sound – I think that was when I was driving against the guardrail."

She shuddered, thinking about how close she had been to falling off the cliff. "And then I was back in my lane, and I was trying to get the car to stop fish-tailing, and I…I think there was something up ahead. The sun had just set and I couldn't really see it. It was big and black, though."

Elizabeth bit her lip, troubling it. "I…Jason, I think I crashed into it."

He gripped her hand. "What else do you remember?"

"I feel like…I feel like crashing into it would have stopped me, but it didn't," she said slowly. "Maybe I hit another patch of ice? Or maybe I didn't hit it hard enough to have the car stop? Because I remember it was still going pretty fast and there was a really hard bump when I crashed into the thing – it was probably a car. Oh, god. And then…I think I hit the side of the cliff, because then there was an even harder bump and then I don't remember anything."

"She hit her head on the steering wheel," Jason told Francis, who was listening intently. "That's how I found her. Elizabeth, if the son had just set, you must have been out there for almost three hours before I found you."

She shivered and he wrapped his arm around her. "Oh, God, Jason, what if I hit someone? You said there was a big dent on the front. And Joe said there was blood…"

"You heard that?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah. He said there was blood on the fender. I had to have hit someone, right? I couldn't have just hit a deer or another animal – oh, God, I hit someone. I hit another person. I'm going to be sick."

Francis quickly handed her a glass of water, his expression grave. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm having Joe on Maple Road fix the car," Jason murmured. "You remember him, right? He knows to fix the car and keep his mouth shut. And…I'm going to find out what happened. I didn't see any other car on the Cliff Road before I found Elizabeth. But I'm going to go back, see if I can find anything."

"Jason, don't." She clutched his hand. "It's cold, and it's so dark. What if something happens to you? We need to call the police. Lucky – I'm calling Lucky."

"You're not calling Lucky," he told her firmly. "We don't need to get the police involved. I can figure this out."

"But, Jason, _I hit someone_."

"You don't know that."

Elizabeth glared at him. "I think it's pretty obvious."

"Let me find out," he said, standing up despite her hold on him. "Francis, will you help?"

"Sure thing."

"Good. We'll take your car and go back to the Cliff Road. I'll get flashlights and gloves, in case we find anything. And a few things in case we need to…clean anything up."

Francis nodded. "We can pick up your bike, too. You want me to just wait here?"

"Yeah. Let me get Elizabeth something to eat, first."

"I want to wash up," she said slowly. "I can't eat anything right now. I just – I just want a hot shower. Promise me you won't go anywhere."

Jason sighed and looked at Francis. "Yeah, I won't go anywhere."

"I'll round up a couple guys," the former guard said as Jason bent to help Elizabeth up. "I'll let them know what's going on and we'll be ready to go whenever you're ready."

"I'll call you," Jason said as she leaned heavily into his side. "Let's shoot for two hours."

"Got it, Boss." The last part came out of habit. "See you then."

Francis let himself out and Jason helped Elizabeth up into a hot bath. He got her clothes out while she was washing up and then sat and waited. After what felt like forever, she came out in a towel, her eyes red and puffy, and he knew she'd been crying.

She dressed silently in the sweatpants and long-sleeved t-shirt he'd picked, then wrapped herself up in a robe. The cut had started bleeding again in the shower and Jason cleaned it and reapplied the bandage, then helped her downstairs.

While they were upstairs, Francis had someone drop off soup from Kelly's, and Jason helped Elizabeth to the couch and made her have some of it.

"I'm not hungry," she kept saying.

"You really should eat."

"How can I eat when I ran someone over with my car?"

"You don't know that you did," Jason repeated.

"Jason. I remember hitting something that looked like a car. And there's blood on my fender. Someone was probably changing a flat or something and I – I hit them. I hit someone with my car!" She burrowed into the couch, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, please, not again. Please, God, don't let this happen to me again."

"Hey." He sat down next to her and pulled at her hands, holding them in her lap. "No one saw. No one knows. And when I was on the Cliff Road, I didn't see anyone there."

"You might not have taken the same route I did," Elizabeth pointed out. "I was on the Cliff Road for a while, and you normally take the Sea Mist ramp onto it."

"We'll know more once I get out there," he said firmly. "Until then, I need you to stay calm, okay? I'm going to go out there and I'm going to get some answers. Whatever happened, I'll find out. I just need you to stay home, stay calm, and not say anything to anyone. And _to not call Lucky_. Can you do that?"

She nodded slowly. "Are – are you going out now?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I want to get out there as fast as I can, before too many other people go by and see my bike, before anything there changes too much. I'm going to figure this out, Elizabeth, okay? I need you to trust me."

She tried to smile as he smoothed her hair out of her face. "I do trust you. That was never the problem. But…Jason, you shouldn't have to do this. You're putting yourself at risk trying to cover up what I did."

"I will _always_ help you no matter what happens," Jason ground out, making sure she understood the weight of what he said. "I won't let anything happen to you, Elizabeth. You weren't guilty the first time and you aren't guilty now. I'm going to prove it."

She knew his definition of 'prove' was sketchy at best, but Elizabeth nodded anyway. "O-Okay."

"I'm going to go change and grab the things I need." He gave her hands one last squeeze and stood. "I'll be right back."

Elizabeth nodded as he hurried up the stairs, then sat in silence and stared at her soup for what felt like forever. The sound of a quick knock at the door interrupted her silent reverie and she gasped, looking up at the door in panic.

"Mom?"

A harder knock this time.

"Mooooom?"

It was Jake.

Oh, no, it was _Jake_.

Elizabeth gulped, almost choking, and just stared at the door, trying to come up with what to do even though she was unable to move. Did she let him in? Did she try to get rid of him? Did she-

"Mom, I'm letting myself in! You really should lock the door, you know."

He twisted the knob and entered, looking down at a large package he was holding. "Okay, I know it's late, but I was out and wanted to get this over before I forgot. My designer brought over these weird angels for the tree, and I don't like that kind of stuff, but I know that you do, so I thought you might want it for your-"

Having walked into the living room, Jake finally looked up at her after setting the heavy box down on the coffee table and Elizabeth knew it instantly when his gaze fell on her bandage.

"What the hell happened?"

She winced, but Jake was already in front of her, leaning down a little, smoothing her damp hair away so he could get a better look at the gash on her forehead.

"Oh, my God, Mom, what the hell happened?!" He had her small hand in his and guided her back to the couch. "How'd you get hurt like that? When did this happen? Why the hell didn't you call me?"

"Francis, meet me out front. Yeah." Jason trotted down the steps and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his son standing there. Jake straightened to his full height, seeing his father dressed all in black and holding a large flashlight in one hand and his phone in the other, and his gaze hardened instantly.

"You want to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

Jason slowly descended the last three steps. "…Just a car accident."

"Just fucking nothing," Jake spat. He left Elizabeth's side and stalked toward Jason, his anger apparent. "You wanna try that again? You wanna tell me why my mother is sitting there looking scared as shit with a fucking gash on her forehead while you're dressed up like a goddamn paratrooper?"

"Jake…"

He held up his hand at Elizabeth's protest, his eyes never leaving Jason's. "I want to hear what he has to say."

"What do you want from me?" Jason fired back. "She was visiting someone after work and hit an icy patch on the Cliff Road. Her car spun out, she hit her head, and passed out. I was coming down the Cliff Road and I saw her. I can't control every aspect of her life, I can't control everything that happens to her. You might have some kind of God complex; that doesn't mean all of us do."

Jake worked his jaw. "And her car? Where is it?"

"I had a mechanic friend of mine come pick it up," Jason replied smoothly, a little louder than necessary. A good dose of false, self-righteous anger often worked well as an evasive tactic, and he hoped Jake bought it. "It's at his place. He's working on it now. She loves that car – I wanted it to be fixed as soon as possible."

"And why wasn't I informed?"

"We don't tell you everything that happens in our lives," he half-sneered. "Isn't that what you have your men on us for? If they didn't find out and get word to you, that's not my problem."

The anger in Jake's eyes faded, replaced by something cold and calm, something Jason had trouble placing. His son clasped his hands behind his back and turned away, heading toward the large window that looked out over the front lawn.

Jason was sure he'd bought it until Jake spoke.

"Your bike's not here."

His heart started pounding faster in his chest; not because of what Jake had said, an innocuous enough statement, but how he'd said it.

"It's-"

"I received a call from my men earlier this evening, saying that you'd taken your bike out despite the conditions," he said calmly. "They said they'd let me know when you arrived home safely. If my mother was 'just in a car accident,' as you claim, you would have had her ride in the tow truck and followed on your bike. It takes a lot for you to leave your bike anywhere but at Harborview or here."

He turned around deliberately, ignoring Jason completely now and focusing just on his mother. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Elizabeth's dark blue eyes darted helplessly between Jason and Jake. Behind Jake, Jason slowly shook his head. Elizabeth bit her lip and looked back at her son, whose expression hadn't changed.

A long moment passed before she let out a quivering sigh. "…I think I hit someone with my car."

Jason closed his eyes.

"What?"

She began to wring her hands together. "Tonight. I was driving and I-I hit an ice patch and then I hit the guardrail. But I got it back in my lane, but then I saw something in front of me – a car – and I felt a bad bump, but I don't think I hit the car. And I hit another patch and then I think I crashed into the cliff, and when I woke up, your father was there."

She sank down on the couch and Jake sat with her. "Jake, I think I ran someone over with my car."

"Where's your car now?" he asked urgently.

"At Jason's mechanic's."

"I'm going to need a name and a number," he barked, pointing a finger at his father. "What happened to the car? Any damage? What do you remember?"

"There's a big scrape on the side where I hit the guardrail," she got out, "and there's a big dent on the other side of the fender. And…there's blood."

"Blood," he repeated slowly.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah."

Jake let out a short breath through his nose and stood, thinking. "Were there any other cars on the road when you were spinning out, besides the one you hit? Any when you were driving home?"

"Maybe one or two. It was pretty deserted."

"And your injury – your cut. Is that the only place you got hurt?"

Elizabeth nodded. "It's just a cut. Doesn't even need stitches. I have a concussion, but I'll be fine. Nothing else is hurt."

"No whiplash? Neck pain? Back pain? Anything?"

"Nothing."

Jake planted his hands on his hips, his mind racing. "All right. Okay, we can deal with this."

"I wanted to call your – to call Lucky," she started. "He could-"

"No one's getting Pop involved," Jake said quickly.

"But-"

"Mom." The word was half-growled, half-shouted. "No one is calling Pop. Do you understand?"

She nodded slowly. "…Okay."

He was silent for a moment, and Elizabeth continued wringing her fingers. "What – what do you think? Does it look bad? Do you think I hit someone?"

"I'm going to have to get a look at the car," he replied. "You said there was blood on the fender – hopefully the mechanic hasn't cleaned it up yet. Maybe I can get a sample of it, get some answers. The size and shape of the dent will also be telling. My forensics guys will know more."

He clapped his hands together and turned away. "All right. I'm going to take care of this."

"I'm already on it," Jason told him. "I'm leaving right now to find the spot she spun out on the Cliff Road. You can go to Joe's place – he's on Maple Road, Joe's Auto Garage, right by the motel."

"Here's what we're going to do," Jake replied in kind. "You're going to stay here to avoid raising any eyebrows. I'm going to handle this."

Jason glared at him and moved toward the door. "I'm going to-"

Jake waited for him to open the door, and Jason found Chase and a junior guard standing there in a manner that appeared casual, but was very much meant to convey that he wouldn't be going anywhere.

"I believe you know Chase," Jake said lightly. "That's Simon. If you go around back, you'll find Alex. Over by the garage, that's where Matt's hanging out. They'll be around if you need anything."

He moved past Jason quickly, brushing roughly against his shoulder, and Simon and Chase moved aside to let him pass.

"I hope you two enjoy your evening at home together," Jake said politely. "Take care of my mother – she's had a rough night. But I imagine she'll be back to herself tomorrow. It'll be like _nothing ever happened._"

Sending Jason a knowing look – meaning, make sure both of you keep quiet about this – Jake turned on his heel and headed down the walkway away from the house, phone in hand.

He had a long night ahead of him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

Morning dawned, cold and bright, on Morgan Manor and Jake hadn't slept a wink. He'd recovered Jason's bike and had it quietly returned to his mother's house, parked in the garage like it had never left. Her car had been retrieved from the mechanic's garage, and unfortunately, the first thing the man had done was gone after the blood. He'd taken a large number of pictures, however, which he happily turned over to Jake as soon as the younger man stated his name.

Those pictures were all Jake had to go on for now, aside from the sizable dent, and so they would have to do.

From the size of the blood stain, the color and apparent opacity of the blood, and the size and shape of the dent that his forensics guys were still examining, it was starting to look like his mother really had driven over someone on the Cliff Road the night before.

He sighed and rubbed his blood shot eyes as he sank down into his chair behind his desk. He had a ton of work to do but it would all have to wait: this new incident involving his mother had taken front seat, no pun intended.

His men were on the scene at the spots on the Cliff Road where Elizabeth had hit the guardrail, allegedly hit the person, and hit the side of the mountain before passing out, and they knew what to do. He could expect detailed reports when they returned.

Until then, he just had to wait, and take care of some other unfortunate business.

With a sigh, he lifted the receiver on his desk telephone and hit one of the speed dial options. The phone rang and went straight to voicemail, which surprised him, because the person he was trying to reach was always up and able to be reached at this hour, every single day, without fail.

The tone sounded and it was time to leave the message.

"John. It's Jake. I'm sorry I missed you. I'm also sorry to have to call you and ask to cancel our meeting for tomorrow night. Something's come up. I don't know yet when I'll be able to reschedule, but I hope you'll be able to meet with me when I do. Thanks."

He set the phone down and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face as the sun rose higher over Morgan Manor.


	83. No One Talking

**Mean | 82**

I'm keeping quiet til there's no more sirens;  
Lately it's hard to keep the hinges on with all the noise.  
I'll find my words when there's no one talking.  
The room is spinning, I have got no choice;  
Be patient, I am getting to the point.

-- "Spinning," Jack's Mannequin

**.: General Hospital :.**

Johnny ducked out of the room in the ICU wing and sucked in a deep breath. The hallway was chilly and he was glad for it: it helped him clear his mind a little.

Nadine was off talking to Patrick and trying to get some more information, and he needed to just get out for a bit, maybe get some coffee. All he knew was that he couldn't sit by her bedside anymore, unable to do anything to help her.

He took off down the hallway toward the back of the hospital, heading for the little-known kiosk that sold coffee and pastries where he wouldn't run into anyone he'd be expected to talk to.

He'd seen Elizabeth this morning in the hallway. She looked tired and out of sorts, dressed in scrubs and a matching surgical cap pulled low over her forehead, and didn't stop to talk to him, for which Johnny was grateful. The cashier at the kiosk also didn't waste time with words and just handed Johnny a cup of piping hot coffee and kept the change as he was instructed.

Brew in hand, he headed toward the stairwell and up to the roof. It was where he and Nadine used to meet, back when she was pregnant and cranky and working at the hospital because he hadn't yet convinced her to move into Crimson Manor with him. He'd bring her brownies or soft-baked cookies, she'd vent about the idiots she worked with, he'd try to coax her into quitting and moving in with him, she'd stuff the brownie or cookie in her mouth and try to leave, then he'd kiss her and they'd forget about it.

Johnny reached for his phone out of habit as he tentatively sipped the hot coffee and looked out over Port Charles. He had been unable to take his calls ever since he found out, and since reception was terrible in the hospital, he'd pretty much forgotten about it.

He hadn't missed much: there was a message from his business manager, updating him on an account that settled this morning, as well as one from Jake. He listened to it as the sun climbed higher, his shoulders slumping slightly as he turned his gaze upward.

Johnny redialed and waited for the tone.

"Jake. It's John. I understand. You know I'll be happy to schedule a meeting with you at your convenience. Truth be told, it's better this way: I wouldn't have been able to make it tomorrow night, either. Claudia was involved in a car accident. I'm at the hospital with her now."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: 235 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

Amalia let herself into the house and dropped her purse, keys, and phone unceremoniously on the table. She tossed her coat on the banister and kicked off her shoes, not particularly seeing or caring where they went. She'd been at the hospital for hours, sitting in her aunt's room, and her father had finally forced her to leave and get some food and a clean change of clothes.

Their cook in Crimson Pointe had reportedly sent a few dishes to the house in Port Charles via bodyguard, and sure enough, when she opened the refrigerator, there they were. She took one covered dish out without looking to see what it was and went about getting a plate.

It turned out to be baked pasta bianca with cream and a special five-cheese blend; no one did macaroni and cheese gourmet-style like their cook. She must have figured that the Zacchara family needed comfort food that would sit awhile.

The past twelve hours had been an absolute whirlwind. Amalia, her mother, and her father had been enjoying a quiet evening in Crimson Pointe. She had finished up her business in Port Charles and returned to her ancestral home instead of spending the night with Jake, and her parents seemed glad for it. They were all able to have a leisurely dinner together, after which they retired to the music room where Johnny played a few of his favorite compositions, and then they did some light packing for their trip to Milan before turning in for the night.

It still felt unreal that they'd spent the whole night at General Hospital instead.

The macaroni was heating up when she heard the doorbell. She wasn't expecting anyone and they got very few visitors at the house on Cherry Blossom Lane, anyway, since Johnny and Nadine had moved away a long time ago.

She headed down the hall, socked feet slipping slightly on the slick hardwood, and knew who it was before she even opened the door. Jake stood there in a pair of dark slacks and a wrinkled dress shirt under a rumpled overcoat, and he looked like he hadn't slept a wink all night.

"I heard what happened."

She pulled him inside and securely shut the door, and that was as long as it took for him to pull her into his arms. Jake buried his nose in her hair, which had finally grown out a couple inches past her shoulders, and held her close.

When Amalia pulled away, he noticed that she was wearing one of his old t-shirts from his college days. She'd probably pulled it on quickly when her father woke her up in the middle of the night so they could all get to the hospital.

"I can't believe it's happening." She was shaking her head, looking a little dazed, and he took her hands. "Aunt Claudie never leaves her house in Milan. It's a big deal if she goes out on the town – it was a big deal when she'd go out with you whenever you were in Italy. It just figures that the first time she comes to surprise us here in about ten years, she gets hit by a car."

Jake kissed her forehead. "I know. I know, it's terrible. How's she doing?"

"Anna's dad is the presiding doctor," she got out. "When we got there he said that there was swelling in her brain and he wanted to see if he could get it to go down with medication before they operated on the rest of her. She's heavily sedated – she never even regained consciousness after they brought her in – and they've been monitoring her. Once the cranial edema isn't a problem, they're going to replace her hip. It's completely shattered. Oh, and her ribs – she broke a couple ribs."

Her words were coming fast, tumbling out one on top of the other, and Amalia was breathless at the end.

"I – Daddy made me come home and get something to eat." She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "He's still there. Mom just started her shift. We were there all night and – she never once woke up. Aunt Claudie never once woke up, the whole time."

"She'll wake up," he murmured, rubbing her shoulders. "She will."

"I wish she'd called us," Amalia said sadly, shaking her head. "She could have called us when she landed – we would have gone and picked her up. She's old, Jake. And she hates traveling alone. The first time in a decade that she does, she gets run over by some fucking monster who didn't even stop to get her any help."

She was crying again, and Jake wrapped his arm around her and led her into the kitchen. Something had finished heating up in the microwave and the whole room smelled like cheese. Gently, he steered her toward one of the stools in the breakfast nook and framed her with his arms, his hands resting on the cool counter.

Amalia sucked in a calming breath and swiped at her eyes, blinking fast to keep the moisture at bay. He rested his forehead against hers and cupped her cheek gently, stroking away the last of her tears, and it was a while before she regained her composure.

Finally, she raised her gaze to his.

"What-What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I heard about what happened to Claudia," he repeated softly. "And…I just had to come see you. And tell you something."

"What?"

"…My mother was in an accident last night."

Amalia's eyes widened. "Oh, no. Was she hurt? What happened?"

Jake shook his head. "She's fine. She had a cut on her forehead. It…It happened last night some time after sunset, around six, maybe. On…on the Cliff Road."

He wasn't looking at her but he could feel the exact moment that comprehension dawned. The mood in the room shifted, her breath caught, her body seemed to palpably stiffen despite the fact that he wasn't touching her, and her hands flew to his chest to shove him so hard that Jake almost tripped backwards.

"You miserable sack of shit!"

He fended off the blows as best he could, but Amalia had learned to fight from her father's top guard and it wasn't that easy.

"You – miserable – sack of – _shit_!" Her teeth were gritted, her nostrils flaring, her hair flying as she smacked him as hard as she could. She was wild – with disbelief, grief, and rage.

Jake finally managed to get a hold of her wrists and crossed her arms in front of her chest, yanking her close so there was no room for her to move. He backed her up gently but quickly against the counter so she wouldn't try to use her legs in a far more painful maneuver.

"Lia, please. Listen to me." His eyes scanned hers somewhat fearfully, and Amalia's furious expression didn't change. "Please. Let me explain."

"I'm telling my father," she ground out, her lips curling in disgust. "Aunt Claudie almost _died_ in the snow in the middle of the road. And your mother didn't do shit. Daddy's going to want some answers, and he'll get them because I'm telling him."

"I already called him and asked to meet with him at the hospital so I could tell him," Jake informed her calmly, keeping his grip on her wrists tight. "But if you want to back me up, that's fine."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

He sucked in a deep breath. "…Because I'm not going to keep this from him. When it was a matter of my family, he helped me. He always helped me. Now it's about his family and…I can't keep this from him."

Some of the tension left her arms and shoulders, allowing Jake to relax slightly as well. "But she's your mother. You'd be-"

"Your father wouldn't hurt my mother. Not ever."

"Aunt Claudie would. In a fucking heartbeat."

"Not if he asked her not to, which he will."

Amalia nodded slowly at this. "…I think you should go."

"Not before I-" Jake stopped and let out a short breath of frustration. Before he what? He told her what he needed to: that there was a possibility that his mother was the one that hit her aunt. There was no way he'd lie to her about that and try to cover it up. He made it very clear that he had every intention of telling her father the same thing.

He wanted to ask her if they were okay, but that was out of the question. They weren't okay because _she_ wasn't okay. Her aunt had just been involved in a serious accident; Amalia wasn't anywhere near okay. She loved Claudia and had loved her all her life. Him asking if they were okay would be extraordinarily petty and small in the face of something like this. Especially since it was still very much possible that Elizabeth had hit her aunt after all.

So what was there left to say?

The thought of his meeting with her father – the one they both had to cancel – niggled at the back of his mind, but Jake forcefully pushed it away. There was no point in thinking about that right now. He couldn't do anything about it. As for his derailed plans, he'd get back on track faster if he got to the bottom of his mother's problem.

Jake pursed his lips together and looked away. Amalia's arms were folded across her chest and she looked away, too, and it was clear that she'd meant what she said.

With a sigh, Jake reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. She shot him a disgusted look and pulled away, but his fingers slipped down the line of her jaw to her chin and he cupped it gently, forcing her to look at him.

"Listen to me." His voice was low and gruff, but entirely sincere. "I will tell you everything. Whatever I come up with, I'll let you know. All of it, Li."

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes hard, and finally nodded. Jake pulled away and she didn't reach for him, barely even looked at him, and with a sigh he drew back. Amalia didn't say a word as he walked down the hallway past the staircase and let himself out, shutting the door softly behind him.

Jake stood on the porch of 235 Cherry Blossom Lane and looked out at his own childhood home. There were times when he dearly missed this street, and other times when he loathed coming back.

All he knew as he gazed out along the empty street, unmindful of the winter chill that easily swept in under his parted overcoat, was that he had to get down to the bottom of this. There was too much that depended on this, like the woman behind the door at his back. He had to get to the bottom of this so that they could move on with the rest of their lives.

He was just terrified of what he'd find once he did.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: General Hospital :.**

"How's she doing?"

"It's still early, but I'm optimistic," Patrick said in a low voice. Elizabeth hugged her arms around her middle and looked past him into Claudia Zacchara's room. "The swelling was really bad when she came in. _Really_ bad. It was a wonder that she was even alive at all."

Something clawed at the inside of her chest and Elizabeth winced, unable to ignore it. "…And now?"

"The swelling is going down," he said, skimming "She's responding well to the Dexamethasone, and we're monitoring her regularly."

Elizabeth's eyes remained on the woman she had almost certainly hit with her car. "What are her odds, do you think?"

"I couldn't say. It's too early to tell. We just have to hope for the best."

"Hope and pray for the best," Elizabeth agreed quietly, earning a curious look from her old friend. "That poor woman…"

Patrick was still staring at her. "…Don't take this the wrong way, but what do you care?"

She turned around and gaped at him. "Patrick! That's an awful thing to say – she was just hit by a _car_ and we don't even know her chances of survival."

"I know that," he shrugged, not looking particularly concerned. He'd seen too many grave injuries like this and more than a few that didn't have a prayer of pulling through. As a doctor, he was well aware of the realities of his job and was trying to figure out why Elizabeth had momentarily forgotten that. She dealt with hopeless cases all the time, too. "I also know that she's not any different from Mister Goodwin down the hall, but you're not shedding any tears over him. You're not praying for him or checking in on him."

"I'm not assigned to Mister Goodwin," Elizabeth shot back.

"You're not assigned to Claudia, either," Patrick said, quirking a brow at her.

"I…she's Amalia's aunt," Elizabeth tried to shrug. "I've known her family for years."

"So have we," her friend persisted.

"Well, there you go."

"Not really," Patrick disagreed. "There's a difference between you and me and Robin. Me and Robin, we've known Johnny and Nadine for about as long as you have. Same with Claudia. But the thing is, we never cared one way or another about Claudia. We could take her either way. But you – you hate Claudia. Everyone knows it."

Elizabeth's hand found itself splayed across her collarbone as she protested. "I-I don't hate Claudia."

"You absolutely hate Claudia," Patrick stated matter-of-factly, as if it wasn't even up for debate, which it truly wasn't. "You've hated her since she came to town. Everyone's seen it. And you were justified, really, because of Jake's paternity and your fear that Claudia would find out…which was moot, I guess, because she'd known the whole time."

He'd become more prone to rambling as he grew older, and Patrick briskly shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Anyway, you've hated her for years. So why the concern all of a sudden?"

Elizabeth was silent for a long moment as she nipped her lip and looked over at Claudia's listless body, hooked up to all sorts of machine. Part of her wanted to walk into that room and sit with Claudia for a while, just to be there for her after what she'd done, but there was no way to do that without arousing suspicion. Like Patrick said, everyone in town knew how much she hated Claudia, especially after it was revealed that the older woman had known about Jason being Jake's father almost since the beginning.

"I just don't like to see people get hurt," she finally said before turning around and walking away from him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Morgan Warehouses :.**

Jake paced the length of the conference room, his eye on the waterfront at all times and the cliffs in the distance. He was staying in town for the time being and had hurried to the warehouses to avoid suspicion. He worked there often enough and no one would think anything of it. Besides, it kept him close enough to deal with the situation personally.

His men were coming that two-mile stretch of the Cliff Road right now, looking for anything and everything that might pass as a clue. Jason was out doing something; it didn't really matter. Jake didn't care. His men would tell him if Jason found anything, anyway, so there was no point in wasting the energy thinking about the man.

Aside from that, he had nothing going on. Work had taken a temporary backseat to this, which was unfortunate, because he couldn't afford to neglect his work. He had already rescheduled his interview with _Time_ magazine for later because he wasn't sure he could pull it off with this ongoing investigation. He had a television spot to do later this week and he wasn't about to pull out of that. He'd just have to make this all fit somehow.

He was alone in the warehouse, which bothered him for the first time since he could remember.

He wanted to tell Cameron about this. His brother had always been fiercely protective of their mother and was never far when Elizabeth needed something. She depended on Cameron in a way she couldn't depend on Jake, and it just felt wrong, not telling his brother what had happened. Cameron would be so calm about this. Cameron was calm about everything.

But, of course, it was out of the question. This could potentially be a big mess, and messes were Jake's specialty. If he had to, he would have to rely on bribery, threats, and cover-ups. Cameron had no business being mixed up in that shit. The last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize the life his brother had so carefully built for himself.

In the old days, he would have told Morgan. His best friend would have been the first person on his very, very short list. They'd have jumped into this together; whenever Jake got overwhelmed, Morgan would pick up the slack and make things go away. They made a great team, they always had.

But the mayor of Port Charles couldn't be involved in this shit. He was accountable to too many people, and this was his career they'd be fucking up. After all the sacrifices Morgan had made so that Jake could slowly take over the business, there was no way he was going to mess things up for him by putting a swift end to his career in politics if this got out.

Besides, Morgan wasn't even in town. Hell, he wasn't even in the country. The British House of Lords, an institution that had been in power since it was established in 1399, was passing into obscurity and currently ruling on its final case. Morgan's mentor at Yale Law was an adjunct professor that was a barrister across the pond and was back home now, deeply involved in the transition as the House of Lords came to an end. He'd invited Morgan, one of few American lawyers and judges, to visit him and partake in the historic event. They all knew not to so much as call his cell during this landmark event.

All except Anna. Morgan allowed her to call him if she wanted to, but only because she was letting him put it to her.

There was no one now. That had never bothered Jake before, but then again, his mother had never been the number one suspect in a case involving vehicular manslaughter.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and considered calling Jason just to touch base, but quickly decided against it. He didn't currently need Jason for anything, and sending mixed signals just wasn't this thing.

God, he hoped his mother hadn't done this.

He gripped the edge of the conference table and leaned against it, looking out at the frozen waters of the Port Charles Harbor. He didn't know how long he stood that way, but he was snapped out of it by the sound of the door opening. There were only a few people that his secretary would let in without announcing, and he found himself hoping it was her even before he caught the tell-tale whiff of her jasmine perfume.

"You met with my father earlier."

Jake stood at attention as Amalia, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a crisp white military coat to ward off the winter freeze, calmly rounded the table. Her movements were graceful and economic, but her expression was guarded and gave nothing away.

He nodded, swallowing roughly. "Yes. A few hours ago. I told him everything. He said-"

"You don't have to tell me. I can guess." She set her purse down on the table and slowly undid the buttons on her coat, one by one, a painfully slow ordeal. Jake remained silent. "He said that he was glad that you came to him. That this would have to be handled delicately. That it was too early to tell if your mother was actually responsible for hitting Aunt Claudie. That it was late at night and very icy. That Aunt Claudie hasn't given her side of it yet. That there are many, many people that want her dead."

She licked her lips and looked up at him, clear blue eyes meeting his intense cerulean ones. "And that even if the worst case scenario turned out to be true, he wouldn't hurt your mother. How'd I do?"

Jake was nodding slowly. "That's…exactly what he said. How'd you know?"

"I didn't," Amalia shrugged. She let her jacket fall on one of the chairs and moved past him, toward the windows. "I guessed. Because that's exactly what my father would say."

A few seconds passed before she added quietly, "…and he'd be right."

Jake slipped his hands into the pockets of his rumpled dress pants and moved closer, looking out over the town with her.

"We have to handle this carefully," Amalia continued quietly. "The most important thing right now is to get to the bottom of this. I can't stand sitting in the hospital anymore, being of absolutely no help to anyone. So I came here. To help here."

He nodded but didn't touch her. "Thank you."

She shook her head. "I came because I want answers, too, you know."

Jake heaved a heavy sigh and together, they looked out at the cliffs that their men were currently crawling all over. "I know, Li."


	84. Infernal Rattling of the Rain

**Note – **Hope the eight of you that are still reading this enjoy it. I'm still enjoying it. :)

Also, to anyone who wants to bitch that I made Elizabeth 'too dumb' or whatever in this, I basically lifted it from transcripts of her not-hit-and-run involving Sam. Blame the show. I work with what I'm given. Also, not to worry, this mini-arc will be resolved soon, in, like the next two to three chapters, I think. Everything will be fine. Is that a spoiler? I don't really care.

**Mean | 83**

_And I think the wind blows so sweetly there  
Over there  
And the windows and the cinders  
And the willows in the timbers  
The infernal rattling of the rain  
still remains._

-- "The Bachelor and the Bride," The Decemberists

**.: General Hospital :.**

"You look like shit."

Jake rolled his eyes. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Cameron repeated, keeping an eye on him as he handed his charts to one of the nurses at the hub. Jake was dressed in a heavy overcoat that made his shoulders slump. His clothes were pressed, his hair was perfectly styled, and his shave was close and smooth. But his expression was tight and strained, his eyes bloodshot, and his skin blotchy and rough.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly. "Nothing's going on. You know I just can't sleep sometimes."

Cameron recognized the tone and knew that this had to be about the business. Jake was stressed and jumpy and terse; obviously, something big was going down. So he switched subjects to avoid going there, not that Jake would have let him. "What are you doing at the hospital?"

He looked around the hub, cracking his knuckles with nervous energy. "Just thought I'd stop by and see Mom."

"You never visit Mom at the hospital," his brother pointed out.

"Well, I am now," Jake snapped. "You seen her?"

"She should be around any minute," came the always helpful reply. Cameron never took it personally when Jake was terse with him. He could always tell when his brother had heavy things on his mind. "She got out of surgery around twenty minutes ago. Listen, I have a consult, but I'll swing by later. Maybe we can get something to eat if you're still around."

Jake pouted. "…I've eaten."

"Yeah? What?"

"…I had brunch already," he replied, still looking put out. "Eggs and my morning pick-me-up."

Cameron rolled his eyes, familiar with this diet from Jake and Morgan's days at Yale. "Okay, a hard-boiled egg and a shot of tequila don't count as brunch. I'll be back in an hour. Be here. I'll feed you."

Jake sighed and leaned against the counter, watching as his brother walked away. Cameron was right: he was a wreck. It was just that he didn't like it pointed out to him that he was a wreck.

He glanced at his watch, hoping his mother would hurry. If she'd gotten out of surgery twenty minutes ago, she should have been back at the hub by now. There were always things to be done after a patient was out of the operating room, and Elizabeth liked to handle the paperwork personally if she could, as a residing surgery nurse.

"Can I help you, Mister Morgan?"

He looked disdainfully at one of the nurses that stood at the counter, daring to look at him with annoyance. The nurses were so much nicer when he was a kid, when his mother and Nadine ruled the hub.

"You can help me by going back to whatever the fuck it is you're supposed to be doing," he tossed back, his words clipped. He glared at the woman until she went away, then snarled to himself. He was losing it a little if a random hospital worker could talk to him like that; all of those positive stories and human interest pieces Molly and Kay were flooding the papers and networks with to show what an upstanding guy he was were backfiring.

Man, fuck upstanding.

He got where he was by being an asshole; why fix something that wasn't broken?

Jake stood by the hub for another few minutes just to annoy the stupid nurse, then pushed himself away and headed down the hallway toward the locker room and OR, hoping to find his mother.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Any word yet on Claudia Zacchara's condition?"

Elizabeth shook her head slowly. "Um, the meds are bringing down swelling. They fixed her internal bleeding but didn't repair the damage yet; Patrick wanted to wait until the edema was taken care of. They're still waiting. That's all I know. Why?"

Lucky shook his head. "I don't like it. This is the first time that she's set foot in this country for years – and on her first night back, someone tries to run her over."

Her eyes widened. "How did you know she was hit by a car?"

"I was guessing," her ex-husband replied smoothly, arching a brow at her. "And you just confirmed it."

Elizabeth bit her lip.

"I really don't like it," Lucky repeated with a sigh. "She left this country for a reason, I know it. Why'd she come back all of a sudden? Why now? And why did someone try to run her over? How'd they know she was back when even we didn't? What's it all mean?"

He rubbed a hand over his face. "There's some kind of mob war brewing. I just know it. I've been hearing things for a while, and I just know this ties in. There's going to be a mob war, with Jake probably in the thick of it. Hell, he might even be the one that started it, for all we know…"

Elizabeth's nails bit into her palm. "I don't think it's connected…Claudia's accident and the mob…"

"It has to be," Lucky snorted. "I've been a part of the police force for thirty years, Elizabeth. I know the signs. And Claudia Zacchara getting mowed down on an icy road on the outskirts of town after dark is a tell-tale sign. We most likely have a mob war on our hands."

"But I really don't think it looks that way," she persisted. "It could have just been an accident, completely unrelated to anything having to do with the mob."

"Oh, yeah?" he challenged. "She was left with serious internal injuries and a shattered hip on the side of a road. In the dead of winter. After dark. Just left there to die. If that doesn't sound like an intentional mob hit, what does it sound like? What kind of person would be that cold, that heartless, to do that to a woman besides a trained killer?"

And with that, Elizabeth found that she just couldn't take it anymore. Something about being likened to a cold-hearted trained killer was just too much.

"Lucky, there's something I have to tell you." She wrung her hands together, a familiar nervous habit of hers, and her wide eyes shimmered with liquid emotion. "I know something about why Claudia's in that hospital bed. I know that it couldn't have been a mob hit."

"Oh, yeah?" Lucky's eyes narrowed instantly. "What do you know? How do you know that?"

"Because I was the one-"

"Because she was the one that figured out that this isn't anyone's style," came a voice from behind Lucky, and the commissioner turned around to find Jake, tall and imposing, right behind him. Jake quickly stepped in between them, standing partially in front of his mother.

Lucky was smart enough to be suspicious. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Mom and I were talking about this earlier," Jake lied smoothly, and Elizabeth tried to quell her shaking, though she remained quite pale. "She was the one that said, looking back at all the instances of mob violence she's seen or heard about, running people down with cars just wasn't on the list."

His cerulean eyes flashed coldly, and he arched a brow sardonically. "Too much left to chance, you know. It's better to finish the job without a doubt, pump 'em full of bullets and leave nothing to chance. Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Of course," Lucky got out through gritted teeth, studying his son carefully. "You know, you're pretty lucky."

"Oh?"

"You have a solid alibi for when the incident occurred," he replied testily. "We've already checked it out and it's good."

Jake smiled prettily. "Don't you trust me at all, Pop?"

Lucky growled and made to turn away. "And even if your alibi wasn't as airtight, your relationship with the Zacchara family is well documented. And publicized. There's no way you'd try to kill your mentor's sister. And if you would – well, you'd be an even more calculating, miserable son of a bitch than anyone could have ever imagined."

Jake was smirking as Lucky turned and walked away, heading toward the hub, and it was only when his father had disappeared from view that he spun around to face his mother. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

She wrung her hands together nervously again. "I just…I wanted to…he was saying – Jake, I couldn't help it. He was talking about Claudia and the accident and it just felt like he knew already and…"

"Mom, I told you not to talk to anyone about this," Jake started, pinching the bridge of his nose, "so you'll have to bear with me if I'm a little confused as to how you interpreted that to mean that you should tell _him_. The fucking police commissioner, of all people."

She wanted to scold him for his language, or his audacity to use it in front of her, but couldn't bring herself to do so. She fidgeted with her surgery cap, still worn low over her forehead to hide her cut, and said nothing.

"You need to keep quiet about this," Jake told her in a low, measured tone. "You need to keep quiet long enough for me to figure out what's going on. I'm close, Mom, I'm really close. We're combing the cliffs, we're inspecting your car, and we're even tracking down the fucking rags the mechanic used to clean off all the blood, the ones his damn kid accidentally threw away before we could get there. I'm close. You just need to not fuck this up by telling Pop. Or anyone else. Can you do that?"

"I just-"

"Mom." His eyes flashed again but his grip when he clasped her hand was surprisingly gentle. "Can you do that?"

Elizabeth nodded, slowly at first, and then with greater certainty. "Yeah. Yeah, I can."

He kissed her quickly on the forehead, distracted when his phone buzzed. "Good."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"I'm looking for Jake Morgan." Jason tapped his fingers restlessly on the counter. "Has he been around?"

"I saw him earlier," the nurse replied, and he guessed from the way her lip curled that Jake had spoken to her before and hadn't been too polite. "He went down that way. Other than that, couldn't tell ya."

"Thanks." He took off down the hallway, knowing there was little chance that Jake would still be there, but he had nothing to lose. He'd check the cafeteria after that, then the courtyard, then he'd swing by one of the private offices each of the board members had, then the conference room where they had their meetings. Maybe he'd check the roof – he knew from Johnny that Jake went there occasionally when he had to be at the hospital.

But even if he couldn't find his son, finding Elizabeth would suffice. That was what this was about, anyway. A short while ago, he'd received a text from his son to get his ass to the hospital to keep an eye on Elizabeth. Apparently, she'd tried confessing to Lucky, which should have surprised Jason but didn't. He would have hoped that she'd have learned her lesson from the hit and run accident almost thirty years ago when she thought she hit Sam but it was actually Monica, but apparently not.

All that mattered right now was convincing her to take a half-day, like Jake said in his message, and getting her home. He'd lock her up there if that was the only way to keep her quiet. With their luck, she'd go out to get the mail and end up confessing to the postman.

Jason laughed at the thought, and then started walking faster.

Fuck. He really had to find one of them.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She was going to be sick.

Having changed into another surgery outfit, Elizabeth scrubbed her hands and tried her best not to vomit. Jake had given Molly a call and had her rearrange the hospital schedule covertly, like only Molly, former information systems consultant to General Hospital, could do. Thanks to her, Elizabeth found herself scheduled for several surgeries this week, which meant she could keep her surgery garb on and hide the cut on her forehead, and kept her from having to spend too much time socializing with the other hospital personnel.

Thank God, because just having to be around them at all made her want to throw up.

Claudia Zacchara wasn't far from her mind, no matter what she did. She was assisting in a brain biopsy on a little girl, and the whole time, she kept seeing Claudia on the table. She was helping with a liver transplant and all she could think about was the state of Claudia's organs and all the internal damage she'd sustained. And when she was participating in an autopsy, well…yeah.

That was kind of a no-brainer.

Oh, God, she was really going to be sick. Right here in the hallway.

She turned the corner and stopped, ducking back a little when she saw Johnny in the hallway. He was wearing the same clothes from the day before, and they were all wrinkled. Elizabeth couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him in a wrinkled shirt. Same with Jake. Both of them took pains to make sure their clothes were properly pressed, always.

He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, leaning against the wall, his head bowed as he checked his messages on his phone. Johnny had always been tall, well built, and athletic, an intimidating and imposing man without even trying. But now, bracing himself against the wall, he was starting to look his age. Tired. Frail. Entirely unlike himself.

"Thanks for calling." His voice, usually warm and rich in timbre, was rough and weak, slurred by a lack of sleep. He didn't lift his head as he spoke into his phone. "I trust you to handle it. Just do whatever you think is best, I'm giving you full authority. No, I can't. I'm not leaving her side. Thanks. Okay."

He let out a heavy sigh and finally let his head fall back, resting against the wall, as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. Eyes closed, lips parted, form sagging, he stayed like that for a long moment and Elizabeth could only watch. The monitors in the room across the hall beeped, ticking out Claudia's strained heartbeat. Elizabeth's heart ached for the man that had once been among her closest friends, and her feet began to move, carrying her toward him as of not of her own volition.

"Johnny?"

He snapped to attention, one foot bracing against the wall to propel him forward, and he at once stood in front of her, as tall and indomitable as ever, if still haggard and cautious.

Elizabeth picked at her nails, nervously wringing her hands together. It was a familiar tic that she just couldn't escape, and her hands found themselves in the position without her even thinking about it.

"I just wanted – I just wanted to let you know…" It was difficult to even form the words, and she swallowed past the lump in her throat. He didn't anything, didn't move, didn't even flinch. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm so sorry for what happened to Claudia."

Her fingers were tightly coiled. The expression on Johnny's face didn't change even a little, and his eyes flashed if she wasn't imagining it.

"I know that I've never gotten along with her," Elizabeth continued, missing the way his lip curled derisively, "but this should never have happened. No one deserves this. She should never have been left out there that night and I am so – Johnny, I am so sorry for what I-"

"Elizabeth." Appearing out of nowhere, Jason insinuated himself between her and Johnny, looking over at the other man with something almost akin to nervousness. Johnny's arms were crossed tightly over his barrel chest, his jaw tight, his eyes hard and flashing, but still, he said nothing.

"Robin wanted me to find you. Something's going on in the hub – they can't find their charts or…something." He nodded at Johnny, venturing further. "Sorry about your sister."

His expression didn't change. "I think it's best if the two of you left immediately."

Elizabeth gaped at him, unused to hearing that cold, tight, emotionless voice – the one he no doubt used to issue threats and discipline unruly associates – directed at her. Jason, however, knew better and took her elbow, steering her away and walking quickly with her down the hallway. They turned the corner and he looked around for the nearest empty room, opened it, and dragged her in with him.

"What were you doing?"

"I just – I just wanted to talk to him," she said. "I just wanted to…offer my condolences."

Jason scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the incredibly ludicrous urge to laugh. "First, Elizabeth, she's not dead yet. Second, he's got no shortage of people expressing their regret. You don't need to add yourself to the list – especially given the circumstances right now."

Her liquid eyes shone up at him. "But, Jason, his sister is-"

"Yeah, and that's too bad," he agreed. "It is. But you don't need to draw any more attention to yourself. No talking to Johnny."

"But-"

"Elizabeth." His voice was firm and tight. "No talking to Johnny. We're handling this. Jake and I are handling this. Let us do our jobs and don't make things worse by talking to him. Just stay away from him from now on."

Finally, after a disbelievingly long moment, she nodded. "Okay."

She looked like she was going to say something else, but her phone in the pocket of her scrub bottoms interrupted her. Frowning, Elizabeth pulled it out and saw a new message. "It's from Jake."

Jason peeked out the window into the hall out of habit. "Where is he? Is he around? What does it say?"

"It says…_Stay away from Claudia's room. John isn't comfortable with you being around her. Please just do what he wants._"

She looked up at him in surprise. "How did he – oh."

"He must have talked to Johnny," Jason agreed grimly. "…Already."

He tried his best not to let his son's relationship with John Zacchara, the headstrong little runt who held a gun on him the very first time they met in that goddamn barn, irritate him. He had no right to feel that way, but sometimes it was quite difficult. Especially at times like these, when he was confronted with just how closely connected the two men were.

"Text him back." He waited as she pulled up a new message. "Ask him if Johnny knows that you might be involved in this."

Elizabeth sent the message and they waited awkwardly for a minute or so before her phone buzzed again. She eagerly opened up the message and he saw her shoulders fall. "…_Yeah. Told him as soon as I found out._"

Jason swore under his breath. "He already knew that you might have been the one that hurt Claudia. And Jake didn't even tell me."

She could see him getting progressively angrier and reached out, rubbing his arm. "Hey. He'd have told you. The two of you just haven't spoken face-to-face yet. He would have told you, Jason."

He looked at her and finally nodded, not because he believed her, but because he saw how badly she wanted him to believe her. "Yeah."

Gruffly, he cleared his throat and looked at the clock on the wall. "Listen, what are you doing now?"

"Right now?" She had to think about it. "Well…I've got two surgeries lined up, but they're not for another hour…so I guess I could take a break until then."

"Take a break," Jason agreed, taking her hand as he reached for the door with the other. If he could get her out of the hospital, there would be fewer people she'd feel the need to confess to, and maybe he could distract her from her overwhelming guilt. "We'll pick up some coffee and sit on the docks."

Elizabeth self-consciously tugged on her surgery cap, making sure it was low enough, and let a small smile touch her lips. "…Just like we used to."

Some of the tension etched into the lines of his face left at that remark, and Jason's eyes might have twinkled just slightly as he looked down at her over his shoulder. "Yeah. Just like we used to."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"So?" Cameron took a big bite of the steak sandwich he'd ordered for himself and his brother – Jake got extra fries on his order; the kid was looking a little thin in the face – and turned to a topic that had nothing to do with the business. He felt he really didn't want to know what it was that had his brother crawling the hospital, most likely for purposes of establishing an alibi, since there were no board meetings or administrative events scheduled today.

"You getting things together to propose to Lia?"

Jake glared at him before glancing around, making sure he hadn't been overheard. The tabloids and various society papers had been light on news about his life recently and were really stepping up their game. He didn't trust the janitor cleaning up a soda spill a few yards away not to be an undercover reporter. He'd gotten burned like that before, and now knew better.

"Will you keep it quiet?"

"Well?" Cameron repeated. "When's that happening?"

Jake glanced cagily to his left and then frowned at his sandwich, paying it an inordinate amount of attention for a piece of meat between two slices of sourdough. "…I've had to push that back a little."

Cameron stopped mid-chew. "You're kidding."

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Like…how far back are we talking about?"

Jake shrugged. "I don't know. We'll have to see."

"Fuck." Cameron set his sandwich down and glared at him, catching Jake momentarily by surprise. "You changed your mind, didn't you? Fuck, Jake. You're not doing it."

"I'm doing it," he replied defensively, slightly hurt that his own brother thought he'd go back on a decision that momentous. "I am. I just had to push it back a little."

"How long?"

"I told you, I don't' know."

"Why?"

Jake's eyes flashed in subdued warning, letting his brother know that the topic was off-limits. "Shit came up."

Cameron pursed his lips together. "You do realize you're doing the same thing Jason did to Mom, right?"

This time, a flicker of anger did pass through his little brother's expressive eyes. "What?"

He didn't let the tightly growled word deter him from the course of the argument. "He kept saying they'd be together. They got engaged, and Mike got shot so they called it off. They were supposed to get back together, and then something else happened with the business. They were supposed to take that trip to France or somewhere and then something _else_ happened. Things kept coming up and he kept pushing back on his promises to her. I don't need to tell you what the next twenty years were like for them."

Jake looked like a storm cloud had lodged itself in his brain. "First, I haven't made any promises to Amalia. Yet. My deciding to push this back has no affect on her because she doesn't know about it."

"Cop out," Cameron grumbled.

"Also, I'm not…" He stopped, replaying his brother's little speech in his head, and then, surprising them both, burst out laughing. Several other cafeteria patrons turned their heads and looked, wondering what he could have found so funny, and Cameron looked absolutely bewildered.

"What?"

"Nothing," Jake laughed, waving his hand. It had just struck him how ironic it was that he was pushing back on his plans to marry Amalia precisely because of his parents, yet he was being accused of repeating their mistakes.

"Nothing, man, forget it."

"But-"

Jake's gaze flicked up at his older brother, the last hint of amusement gone. "Seriously. Forget it."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Elizabeth adjusted the pink bandana she wore over her flowing curls, pulling it down enough to make sure her cut was covered. It was another early day at the hospital and Molly had once again scheduled her into a couple surgeries so she could put in her time and get out without having to deal with too many people.

They'd run into each other this morning in the administrative wing when Elizabeth was dropping a few things off for Dr. Ford. Molly still consulted at the hospital, and Elizabeth knew it was because Jake encouraged her to keep herself in the hospital loop that way. As a consultant, Molly still had access to the hospital's information system and could covertly do things like switching personnel into surgeries and accessing files. She knew this was important to Jake, mainly as a way to keep tabs on her. And while that usually rankled – really, who was the parent in this situation? – she could see how it helped at times like these. He knew she would be involved in different surgeries and he had immediate access to reports about Claudia's condition.

Molly had been leaving Jake's small office at the hospital, the one reserved just for him, just like the others reserved for various trustees and board members that clocked more hours there than others. They'd exchanged polite smiles and nods, mainly because Molly looked to be in a terrible hurry, but Elizabeth knew instantly: Molly knew all about what had happened.

It had jarred her for a second that there were people in this town – Johnny, Nadine, Molly, probably Kristina and Amalia – that knew of her involvement in Claudia's accident and said nothing to her personally. They all knew her secret and lurked with it, never letting it rise to the surface. They all worked around it, worked to handle it, all without ever exchanging any words with her about it, and she was the one at the center of it all. The covert networking was disconcerting, and it still bothered her.

Her first surgery went smoothly: it was a routine appendicitis. She could assist in one of those in her sleep. Post-op was a breeze, and the patient, a ten year old girl, even complimented her on her pink bandana that matched her scrubs so prettily.

The next surgery was fine, too, but things took a turn for the worse when Elizabeth headed into the ER and was immediately herded toward one of the operating rooms. She felt the bile rise in the back of her throat when one of the other nurses called out, "Car accident, hit and run, mental trauma and internal injuries."

How she made it through that, she'd never know. Her hands shook. Her vision would blur. Her voice failed her. Instead of the young man on the table, all she could see was Claudia. Claudia, being struck by a car, falling through the air, crumpling on the side of the road, left for dead.

They couldn't save John Doe, and he died on the table right in front of her. And instead of making arrangements for identifying the body and all the other post mortem procedures, Elizabeth just walked right out of the operating room. She took off her gloves, mask, and scrubs like they burned and stepped right into the shower in the locker room, standing under the hot water for what seemed like hours. It didn't work; it didn't wash away the burden on her shoulders, the weight on her heart, the iron fist that strangled her every breath and made her want to collapse.

When she finally came out, her skin was flushed and pruned, and Elizabeth was so dazed that she almost walked out without using her bandana to hide the gash on her forehead. She walked listlessly through the halls, absently signing things her nurses kept shoving under her nose, and somehow, found her way back to the ICU.

Nadine wasn't there. She had been a constant fixture at her sister-in-law's side ever since Claudia was brought in, and it surprised no one. Nadine had always loved Claudia, and the two of them got along famously. They'd had trouble at first, with Claudia thinking that Nadine was just another gold-digger after Johnny's money, but the older Zacchara had been won over when she saw just how hard her brother had to work to convince Nadine to move in with him and marry him. Amalia's birth had cemented their relationship, and Claudia and Nadine had gotten along famously ever since then.

Johnny wasn't around, either. He was a constant presence in the hospital, but occasionally stepped onto the roof to take business calls and collect himself. Amalia had been here earlier. She'd arrived some time in the evening the day before and spent most of the night with Claudia, leaving only in the morning when Jake arrived and insisted that she come with him to get something to eat. Her son had taken her away and they'd gone to Kelly's, joined by Mal, who had also been making the rounds to keep tabs on one of his old friends and make sure she was okay.

But right now, Claudia was alone, small and still in the hospital bed that looked far too large for her. She had always been a tall, indomitable woman, capable of conveying great scorn and warning with a single arch of her eyebrow, and there was no denying that she was dangerous. Elizabeth loathed her and feared her alike, but right now, there was nothing fearsome about the woman, and her only desire was to fix this and make it all better.

She fiddled with the monitors, making sure everything was in order. Claudia slept on.

"I can't believe this is happening." She sank down on the chair by the bed, her hands clasped between her knees. "I can't believe we're all here like this, under these circumstances."

The monitors beeped, the only sound in the room.

"There was a time when I would have loved this," she admitted quietly. "I try never to think bad thoughts about other people, but you…you were different. I was so…horrified by you. By everything you were.

"You were the sister of two of my closest friends. You were dangerous and you were vicious and you didn't care about anyone or anything, you just did what you wanted. You had no real loyalties that I could see, you had no fear, no shame, no tact, no responsibilities. No sense of care or nurturing. And they were two of the best people I thought I knew, and they loved you so much. And every time I saw you, every time I saw your face on the news or saw you lurking around on the docks, I just hated you more."

She shook her head. "Jason and Sonny never trusted you. They always suspected that you were responsible for Michael getting shot when he was a kid, even though it was proved that you weren't. They didn't trust you for a second, and I saw how they looked when they talked about you. I think…I think they were kind of scared of you, too. Because you were unattached. You were reckless. You didn't have anyone to take care of, anyone that depended on you for anything, like they did with Sonny's wives and his kids. Jason and Sonny had to make sure that Carly and Olivia and Kate and Michael and Morgan and Kristina were protected. You, you had Johnny, sure, but he could always take care of himself. You could do whatever you wanted without fear of repercussion, and that scared them. It scared me, too."

Elizabeth licked her lips, thinking back to all those times that Claudia would come to visit Johnny and Nadine at their house on Cherry Blossom Lane, and how Jake would always run over to say hi as soon as he saw her chauffeured car pull up. She remembered Claudia rolling her eyes as he ran up, pinching his cheeks the way she knew he hated, mocking him, stealing his burger off his plate at barbecues. But she also remembered the gentle twinkle in her eyes when Jake was talking, the way she laughed at his jokes, the little toys she'd sneak into his backpack for him to find later, and the way she hugged him every time before she left.

"And no matter what I did, you were always able to get as close to Jake as you wanted. He adored you. Ever since he was a kid, he adored you. When you'd come to town, he'd lie to me and tell me he was with Morgan or Spencer and sneak off to John's house instead. And you encouraged it because you knew exactly what was happening all along."

Tears crept into her voice and she swallowed against them. "I was always so afraid that somehow, you'd find out that he was Jason's son and you'd use that against all of us. I tried to keep him away from you, I tried to keep him off your radar. But you were always there, and then it was like my worst nightmares came true: I found out you knew the whole time. You knew the _whole _time. He was around you all the time when you were here – any time you wanted, you could have just taken him and never let us see him again."

She imagined Claudia smirking that wide, devilish smirk of hers that always sent chills down her spine.

"He knew that. Jake told me. He knew when he was a kid that you knew, that you were the one that told Nadine and John. And still, he adored you. He made sure to spend time with you whenever you were here. It was like your secret, yours and his. You knew he was Jason's son, and he knew, too, but he also knew you knew."

The words, coming out so fast and on top of each other, were making her dizzy.

"When I found that out…" She shook her head, tears blurring her vision as she looked at the ceiling. "Never before have I ever wanted something bad to happen to someone, the way I did to you. I've hated you for so long. Everyone knows that. If they find out that it's possible that I was the one that-"

"Mom!"

She whirled around and saw Jake standing in the doorway, a look of horror and anger on his face.

"What are you doing in here?" Hurriedly, he crossed the room and took her hand, pulling her toward the door. "We're leaving. Now."

"But-" She struggled slightly against his hold but Jake was terribly strong…and subconsciously, she didn't really want to stay. So she let him pull her out into the hall before shutting the door quietly and casting a worried glance inside at Claudia.

He turned to her and his irritation was apparent. "What did you think you were doing in there?"

"…I just wanted to check up on her."

"Mom…" Every muscle in his body appeared tense as Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, looking remarkably like his father. "I've told you to stay away from here. Jason's told you to stay away. Johnny's told you to stay away. We've also told you to be quiet, but for some reason, you won't rest until you've told someone! Besides, with my luck, she'd probably wake up right then and hear you."

"I just-"

"And what do you think you're confessing, anyway?" he demanded. "You don't have solid proof that you did this. I already told you that I'm working on this. Jason's working on this. John's working on this. All three of us are on this, but clearly, you don't trust us to do our jobs."

"It's not that I don't trust you," Elizabeth persisted.

"Obviously, it is," Jake snorted. "This is what we do. We know how to do shit like this. We're _good _at shit like this. And we're all on this, but still, you can't seem to do anything but tell everyone you're responsible. Why not just take out a billboard? That'd save everyone a lot of time."

She was starting to get angry, and her hands found themselves planted on her hips. "There's no need to talk like that."

He looked like he was going to laugh, but caught himself in time. "You know what? I'm done with this. I told Jason to keep an eye on you and who you were talking to since you're so bent on putting this out there, but he can't tail you twenty-four-seven."

Her jaw dropped. "You told your father to _tail_ me?! What-"

"We can't keep doing this," Jake stated plainly. "There's no point to me working to get to the bottom of this if all you want to do is walk into the jail cell and lock it behind you. So you're taking a vacation."

Her eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

"You're putting in some of your vacation days that you've got saved up and you're taking a break from the hospital," he informed her. "You don't have any more surgeries lined up today – I already checked. You can clock out right now."

He waved his hand and a guard appeared as if out of nowhere. Elizabeth recognized him as the one that had driven her to work this morning. "Drew here will walk you to the hub where you'll clock out, and he'll pick up some lunch from wherever you want and take you straight home. I'll let Jason know the change in plans so he knows to join you at the house."

Jake stepped back, neatly ending the conversation, and Elizabeth could only gape at his back as he turned. She was used to seeing Jake order people around, but it rankled terribly when he tried to pull that on her. And how he had his bodyguard practically breathing down her throat, ensuring that she'd do exactly what he said.

"Is there a problem here?"

Johnny had rounded the corner into the hall and now stood facing Jake, though it was her he was glaring at. Jake glanced at his shoulder, looking her guard directly in the eyes, causing Drew to gently take her elbow and steer her away, then turned back to him.

"No problem, John."

Seeing Elizabeth leaving, Johnny's shoulders relaxed a little and he let out a weary sigh when Jake clapped him on the back, murmuring something about getting him coffee. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at them as she walked, and when she could no longer hear what they were talking about, she saw Jake give Johnny a hug. The older man returned it, letting his chin rest on her son's shoulder for a moment before he clapped him on the back and pulled away. It was an easy exchange of affection and concern between the two men, and it was immediately apparent how much Jake cared for Johnny and his family.

"Be sure to let me know where you'd like to get lunch from, Ms. Webber," Drew said, shaking her from her thoughts as they rounded the corner, leaving Jake and Johnny behind. "We'll go wherever you want. And I'll make sure that Jason is at the house by the time we arrive."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Morgan Warehouse :.**

It was late afternoon by the time he was able to get to the warehouse. When he took it over from Morgan, Jake knew that he'd be spending a lot of time working there and had converted two of the rooms into a private suite complete with a bedroom, bathroom, common area, and office. He spent a little longer in the shower than he usually did, but the hot water just felt so good on his sore muscles.

Jake checked his phone as he came out and started to scrounge around for some clothes. There was a text from Amalia, telling him she was going back to the hospital. One of his men had left him a voicemail letting him know that they were closing in on the rags the mechanic had used to clean Elizabeth's car, the ones his kid had bagged and given to the garbagemen before they'd been able to get there. Chase left a message saying that he'd also gotten a call about this and was making sure their forensic guys had everything they needed for the imminent blood analysis. The last two missed calls were from his mother, but Jake ignored those. If it was anything important, Jason, Drew, or one of the other guards on the street would have called him, and he really didn't feel like listening to her squawk at him for half an hour about how he couldn't treat her like a child.

He wouldn't have to order her home if she didn't run around trying to tell everyone that looked at her that she was responsible for mowing down Claudia Zacchara. Jesus fucking Christ.

Jake had known when this came up that his mother would be difficult to handle. He'd discussed it with Jason at great length. He knew the basics of the hit and run accident that occurred when he was a child, but Jason had been the one to fill him in about how Elizabeth repeatedly tried to confess to Lucky and Sam about her involvement. In the end, it turned out to be nothing, and Monica had been the guilty party.

Because of that conversation with his father, Jake had felt that he knew what to expect. He told Jason that he would be making sure his mother had protection and that he needed him to make sure that history didn't repeat itself. Jason readily agreed, knowing that, if left on her own, Elizabeth would surely try to alleviate her guilt by telling someone. They'd done their best to keep her quiet, but their mother was making that very hard.

He had to handle this one way or another, otherwise he'd be too busy chasing her down to get to the bottom of this. The only way to finish out the investigation quickly, efficiently, and safely was to figure out a way to keep his mother quiet about her possible involvement.

A sharp pain in his side had him gasping for breath, and Jake sank down onto the bed, rubbing his stomach. Yeah, he definitely had to handle this fast for everyone's sake.


	85. A Burning Building

**Note – **thanks for the awesome feedback. I don't write any fic JUST for the feedback, and I haven't for some time, but I really, truly enjoy reading your comments. Thank you. All the comments last time made my day.

**Mean | 84**

_Are you pulling her from a burning building_

_Or throwing her to the sharks? _

-- "Balaclava," Arctic Monkeys

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

He'd sent his mother home the day before, informing her that she would be taking a vacation, and Jake hadn't spoken to her since. He'd been far too busy with the investigation, with making sure Amalia was doing all right, keeping news of the incident from his brother, managing events at his estate, and rescheduling his interview with TIME and moving his appointments around.

But they'd made some progress after a few false leads, and he wanted to drop by the house to share the encouragement. By all reports, things were calm on Cherry Blossom Lane. No one had come around asking questions, no one had visited the house, no one had done anything. And his mother hadn't left the house, either, which was something to be thankful for. Jason was doing a good job keeping her indoors and away from everyone she might possibly confess to.

Jake knew he was being hard on her, but the truth of the matter was that he couldn't handle it any other way. She'd already proven – several times – that she was given to confessing her unproven sins despite specific instruction, pleading, and orders not to. She really didn't leave him much choice. Hopefully, now that she was under this sort of house arrest, that would stop.

He trotted up the walkway to the house and knocked twice before letting himself in. Jason was sitting on the couch with the paper and had been in the process of getting up to answer the door, and he put the paper down when he saw who it was.

Jake didn't bother with greetings. "Mom here?"

"In the kitchen," Jason replied. "Elizabeth? It's Jake!"

"Coming!"

They heard a brief clatter of pots and pans and the oven door, and then Elizabeth was hurrying out of the kitchen and into the main room. "What's going on?"

"I just stopped by to let you know how things are going," Jake replied. He didn't take off his coat, knowing he wouldn't be staying very long. "It took us longer than we thought to track down the towels. The ones we found weren't the right ones, so we had to start all over. We're close, though. As soon as they're found, they'll be shipped to my facilities immediately and we can begin testing to see just whose blood it was that was on your car."

Elizabeth nodded weakly. "Okay."

Jake glanced around, a little uncomfortable with the perfect domestic picture his parents presented. His mother was wearing her favorite apron and had a dish towel in her hands. Jason was propped up on the couch with his feet on the table, his glasses perched on his nose, and a newspaper in his hands. It would have been comforting, had this been the typical scene when he was nine, instead of twenty-nine.

"I just wanted to stop by and let you know," he said, the mask of affected nonchalance once again slipping into place. "And make sure everything was okay at the house. I've added an extra guard to the rotation, so if there's ever any trouble or anything that's needed, he's the one that's going to deal with it."

The extra guard was really added just to keep extra tabs on his mother, but there was no point in saying that. The guards also went a long way in deterring visitors to the house when they were in plain sight on the street, and Jake was grateful for that. Jason was, too.

Something beeped in the kitchen and Elizabeth quickly turned. "Oh – I have to get that. I'll be right back."

Jason watched her leave and put down his newspaper. He took off his glasses, slipping them into his pocket, and stood. "Be honest with me. How's it really looking?"

"We're close but still no cigar," Jake shrugged wearily. "We'll see what happens, see what turns up."

"You need to tell me what to do," he said quietly, his expression serious. "I'm useless sitting around here. Tell me what still needs to be done so that I can go out and do it."

Jake shook his head. "No way. I'm handling this. Out of all of us, you're in the best position to handle Mom. So that's your thing. I have to go."

He was about to leave when a key scraped the lock, and Jason and Jake looked over to find Lucky standing in the entranceway. He had never given back his key to the house, even though Elizabeth asked repeatedly over the years, and typical of her ways, she never forced him to relinquish it.

"Well." His eyes moved back and forth between the two men, and Lucky smirked as he let the door shut behind him. "Hello."

Jake stiffened, but not before widening his stance and squaring his shoulders, typical defense posture. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Lucky smiled smoothly, descending the steps into the main room. "I came by because I heard your mother abruptly cashed in her vacation days. I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Considerate of you," Jake muttered.

"Well?"

His eyes narrowed. "Well, what?"

Lucky appeared to almost be enjoying himself. "What are you and Jason doing here?"

"Same thing," Jake replied smoothly. "Jason told me he heard Mom decided to take a few days off and we thought we'd head over to see if she needed anything."

"How about that," his former father drawled. "She's so lucky to have _all_ of us in her life, isn't she?"

"Lucky." Elizabeth had come out of the kitchen, and her surprise was evident. "Wh-What are you doing here?"

He noticed the hitch in her voice and zeroed in on her. "You called in your vacation days on short notice. I wanted to see what was up."

"Nothing's up," she tried to smile. "I was just tired. Of everything. So I thought I'd stay home this week."

"Really."

His short reply was enough to fluster her, and Elizabeth rambled when she was flustered. "Yup. Plus, uh, you know how things are at the hospital. I just couldn't be there anymore, all things considered."

Jake and Jason slowly turned, so as to avoid Lucky's suspicion, and discreetly glared at her once their backs were toward the commissioner.

Lucky frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Uh…" Elizabeth glanced back and forth between Jason and her son. "You know, with Claudia in the ICU. With Johnny and Nadine always there, with their bodyguards always lurking. You know I've always…hated her. I just don't like to have to be in that area of the hospital…with her."

Jake appeared to relax a little and turned back to Lucky. "Well, there we go. Everything's fine. There really wasn't any need for you to stop over."

But Lucky wasn't done. "Not so fast." He glanced shrewdly at Jason, noticing the man's stiff stance and the fact that he wasn't wearing a coat while Jake still was. "What are you both doing here?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "We told you that already."

"No, no, I mean, what are you _both_ doing here?" Lucky's eyes narrowed at Jason, whose expression gave nothing away. "Jake, you rarely come by the house anymore, from what your mother tells me. But you're here now, on her first day off, and with him. What gives?"

"They dropped in to check on me and I invited them to stay for dinner," Elizabeth piped up, and Jake forced a smile.

"How nice," Lucky smiled, unzipping his jacket. "I know you won't mind if I stay, too."

"Uh…" There was no way out, and Elizabeth had no choice but to acquiesce. "Sure. There's plenty of lasagna…for everyone."

"Hey, that's great," Lucky smiled, pointedly tossing his jacket on the couch close by where Jason was standing. He beamed facetiously at Jake, whose expression was quite sour. "It'll give us a chance to catch up."

"Wonderful," Jake half-snarled back, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He turned, shrugging off his jacket, and quickly sent a text to Chase, letting him know that he would be delayed and to keep things moving.

"So, Jake."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

Lucky crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side. "I was on the Cliff Road yesterday."

Elizabeth's eyes widened and she looked at Jake, who still looked bored. "Yeah, so?"

"Your men were crawling all over it," Lucky replied, pretending to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "Now, why would that be?"

Jake's expression didn't change. "Lost an earring there the other night. Told them not to leave a single stone unturned."

Lucky smirked, recognizing a deflection, and Jake turned away from him. "Mom, is dinner ready yet or what?"

"Almost. I just have to set the table. Jason, why don't you help me?" He didn't move, still glaring at Lucky, and Elizabeth grabbed his arm and tugged, knowing it would be best to keep him as far away from Lucky as possible. "Jason, _come on_."

Lucky smirked at Jason, who glared at him as Elizabeth dragged him away, then turned to Jake. "Let's have a seat at the table, shall we?"

Jake sighed and followed him into the dining room, taking the seat he always sat in when he was a boy. Cameron always sat across from him, with Elizabeth at the head of the table. His mother still sat at the head, and now it was Jason that sat across from him. Lucky took up the seat at the foot of the table, smiling pleasantly at Elizabeth as she brought the plates and silverware.

Lucky tapped his nails on the table, pointedly watching Jason as he got out the wine glasses. The former enforcer bristled, but Lucky was in no way deterred. It was only when Jason left the dining room to get the wine that Lucky turned to Jake.

"Hey."

Jake's gaze flicked over to his, and he looked bored. "What?"

Lucky cleared his throat. "Did you, uh, did you get a chance to check out the papers today?"

Jake shook his head, the excuse coming quickly. "No. I have a segment on ABC this weekend, about the economy. I've been briefing for it and haven't really poked my head up until now."

Lucky didn't believe all of that – he was a suspicious man where Jake was concerned – but he could see there was enough truth to it. "Well, then you probably don't know about…um…does the name Mila Romanov mean anything to you?"

"Mila Romanov?" He puzzled over the name as Jason and Elizabeth returned with the wine and the lasagna, along with a basket of bread. "I don't recall…"

"Someone you might have known when you were younger?" Lucky prodded, pulling out his Blackberry. "Someone you might have gone to school with…?"

"Mila, Mila…" His brow was furrowed, and suddenly he remembered. "Yeah, I used to hook up with her back in college. Theater major. How the hell did you know her name?"

Lucky's expression was slightly sour. "Everyone knows her name now. She just had an interview published in _Star Magazine_ about the two of you. You know, back then."

"…You're kidding."

Lucky shook his head and handed Jake his phone with the web page pulled up. "Afraid not."

Jake skimmed the article fearfully, and noticeably turned three shades paler. "Oh, fuck."

He was out of his seat in a flash, tossing the phone at Lucky. He pulled his own out of his pocket and high-tailed it into the other room and they could hear him angrily asking for Kristina.

"Let me see," Elizabeth said, holding her hand out for Lucky's phone. "How bad could it be?"

She held it so both she and Jason could see and began quickly reading. "Mila Romanov…we dated while we were sophomores at Yale…dated several of my friends, too…on our first date…Ew. A hard guy to pin down…knew what it was going into the relationship…just as domineering personally as he is in the…Oh. Oh…no. I can't read that!"

Elizabeth handed the phone off to Jason in disgust, and the enforcer kept reading in amazement. "Shit, how are they even allowed to print this stuff?"

"Tabloids," Lucky shrugged. "They aren't exactly held to the highest of standards. Did you get to the part about…"

"Yeah," Jason grunted, shaking his head briskly as he set the phone down on the table. "More than I needed to know."

"What, you didn't need to know that your kid 'likes it rough?'" Lucky asked, quoting the article but unable to keep his nose from crinkling in disgust. "See, this is why you could never be called an involved parent, asshole."

Jason glared.

"And why the _fuck_ didn't anyone tell me?" They could hear Jake yell from the other room. "So what? How the hell is that any kind of excuse? I can handle more than one thing at once – I'm more highly evolved than a dog, you know!"

Jason caught a brief glimpse of his son as he paced in the main room. "No wonder he's mad. I can't believe that girl would sell him out like that."

"She's not the first," Lucky pointed out. "There were several before her that talked about when Jake was sleeping with them."

"Yeah, but no one ever talked about anything that…specific," Jason explained, waving his hand in a futile gesture as he searched for words. "They said general shit about how they enjoyed seeing him. They didn't get into…measurements. That was just…"

"Classless," the commissioner muttered. "I can't believe none of his people told him about it. That shit came out this morning; it's all over the place by now. Everyone's talking about it."

"He's busy with other things," Elizabeth offered with an uneasy shrug. "There's a lot on his mind right now."

"Really…" Lucky cocked his head to the side as Jason closed his eyes. "Like what?"

"Just…uh, you know, the normal things," she hedged, reaching for the bread basket. "Roll?"

"We might as well before it all gets cold," he replied in a low voice, but the way he watched Jason and Elizabeth made it clear that Lucky was still suspicious. "Hey, at least he knows now and can do something about it."

Elizabeth pulled a face again, shuddering. "Ugh, I really didn't want to read all that. I can't believe some woman would say all that about him. That's no one's business."

Jake came back into the room, scowling, and slammed his phone down on the table. "Pass the wine."

Jason did as he said and Jake unscrewed the cork and began pouring for everyone. It was Chteau Latour Pauillac, a decent year, a highly sought wine that Claudia had sent him as a gift. Since she'd sent him many other wines of equal quality, he'd given one or two of the bottles to his mother.

Lucky chewed slowly on the bread, watching Jake thoughtfully. "So is Kristina gonna sue or what?"

"That's the plan," Jake sighed heavily, pointedly avoiding eye contact. "It probably won't go anywhere. It's not defamatory or anything like that. But she'll try to take it as far as it does go. Hopefully shut her the fuck up."

"Well, hey, at least it was all complimentary," Lucky tried to joke. He grinned when Jake glared at him. "Oh, come on. Do you know how many men would pay good money to see stuff like that about them printed in all the papers and up on all the gossip blogs?"

Jake groaned, but they saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "Shut up."

"And at least now people are going to stop wondering about it," he kept going, trying for a smile. "Of course, they'll probably start chasing you down the street to get you to strip…"

Jake snorted, choking a little on the wine, and held up his hand when Elizabeth tried to give him a double helping. "One's fine, Mom."

"You need to eat more," she said firmly, trying unsuccessfully once more to add food to his plate before giving up. "Don't think I haven't noticed – you're losing weight."

"It's all that blow he does," Lucky said seriously, poking at his lasagna as Jake glared.

"One man's blow is another man's donut, right, Copper?"

"Let's talk about something else," Elizabeth said loudly as Jason watched the two men with a strange look on his face. The way they alternated between arguing bitterly and archly ribbing each other baffled him. "Jake, how's…Edward?"

"Grandfather's good," he replied automatically, shoveling a large bite into his mouth. He didn't want to aggravate the pain in his side by having too much of his mother's spicy lasagna, and he also didn't want to spend more time here than he absolutely had to.

"I don't get to see him very often," Elizabeth mused, "not even at the hospital."

Jake didn't feel the need to explain that it was because Edward didn't particularly like her – the old man held a grudge for the paternity cover-up – and only spoke to her when he absolutely had to. "Yeah."

'How's Amalia?"

His fork stilled for a moment before he resumed his motion, but Jason had already noticed. "About as well as can be expected. She's spending a lot of time in the hospital."

"I still think Claudia was a target of a mob hit," Lucky stated flatly. "It's too perfect."

"No, it's not," Jake sighed wearily. "It was an accident that had nothing to do with the mob. Alleged mob."

"She left the country _years_ ago," Lucky pointed out, ignoring Jake's obvious bait. God, how he hated the word 'alleged.' Fucking legal semantics. "She comes back – a secret trip, no less – and she's immediately run over by a car. It has the mob written all over it."

"She was just in a bad place at a bad time," Jake said loudly. "You know, like Mom was, back when she thought she was the one that run over your ex-girlfriend."

Lucky frowned and looked over at Elizabeth, who was gaping at Jake for letting something like that slip. "Sam? What's he talking about?"

"Sam was hit by a car when I was a baby, wasn't she?" Jake asked casually.

"Yes," his former father replied slowly. "Your grandmother was behind the wheel. It was an accident."

Jake nodded, almost done with his dinner. "Yeah. But before you guys figured out that it was her, Mom thought she did it. She was on the road that night. She dozed off. She remembered hitting something. Jason found blood on her fender. But she wasn't the one that did it; it was all circumstantial. And she hardly had any mob ties; none that mattered, anyway."

The last part was tinged with bitterness. "And neither did Grammonica. The cops all thought it was a mob hit, but it wasn't. It was just an accident."

"How come I never knew about this?" Lucky asked, turning to his ex-wife. "You thought you hit Sam and you didn't tell me?"

"That doesn't matter." Jake dropped his fork on his plate and finished the last of his wine in one gulp. "The case was solved and it's been closed for more than twenty years. Whatever Mom did or didn't tell you doesn't matter. The fact that I told you everything right now doesn't matter. The point that I'm making is that it's very possible to just be in the wrong place at the wrong time in this town – just like Sam was, just like Mom was that night on the road, just like Claudia was – without the mob being immediately responsible."

He stood and tossed his napkin onto the seat. "Thanks for cluing me in about this shit, Pop. And thanks for dinner, Mom. I gotta go."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: 235 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

It was about three in the morning by the time he headed back to Cherry Blossom Lane, this time to Amalia's house. She had just gotten home from the hospital; Johnny had no doubt kicked her out of Claudia's room and told her to get some rest and a change of clothes.

She was curled up on the couch, exhausted, when he let himself in, and Jake held up a large bag of take-out. He'd called up Eli's and said he'd pay five times the order price if they could have two full dinners ready for him in the middle of the night. And since no one ever refused such orders, Jake got what he wanted and brought it over for her.

"Sit," he said gently when she made to get up. "I'll get everything."

In a couple minutes, he'd rounded up plates, silverware, two wine glasses, and another Chteau Latour and joined her in the room again. He set everything out on the coffee table in front of her, pointing to the different containers.

"Ribs, potatoes, extra sauce, bread, butter, corn, beans, and that Oreo cake you like."

Amalia lifted the throw blanket up and he flopped down next to her. She tossed it over his lap and accepted her plate, letting him spoon food into it. "You must be tired. It's been a long day for you."

"I'm okay," he replied honestly. "It's hard for me to sleep, anyway, when there's so much shit to get done."

"I know," she said softly.

"How's Claudia?"

"The swelling's almost gone," Amalia smiled wearily. "She's getting her hip replaced tomorrow or the day after that, depending on how everything checks out. And then we just wait for her to wake up. She's going to make it."

Jake kissed her forehead and settled down next to her. "Thank God. How are your parents?"

"They're okay. Except…"

That got his attention. "Except, what? Do they need anything? If they do, I can-"

"No, no." She waved her hand wearily, propping herself up against his side. "You've already done so much for them, and they appreciate it. It's just that…well, a couple hours ago, my mom got a call from your mom."

His fork stilled. "From my mom."

Amalia nodded. "Yeah. She didn't say much about it. I walked in on her ranting to my father about it and they quieted down when they saw me, but…apparently, your mom called her and started talking about Aunt Claudie and how she always hated her but she never meant for anything like this to happen. And…Mom said she wasn't sure, but she thought your mom sounded a little…tipsy."

Jake closed his eyes. "You're kidding."

"Not drunk," she said quickly. "They used to go out drinking before – my mom knows what your mom sounds like when she's drunk. But just…tipsy. Her words were slurred. Like she was tired."

He thought back to the wine he'd given everyone a liberal helping of at dinner around seven o'clock and winced. "Jesus Christ, no matter what I do…"

"Jake…" Amalia saw the muscle in his jaw ticking and settled a hand on his arm.

"Fuck," he hissed, dumping his plate on the table and scowling at it. "No matter what I do…this…this doesn't work."

"I don't know how much she said to her," she said slowly. "I'm not sure if your mother confessed or just tried to confess. Not that it matters because Mom already knows everything. But…she wasn't happy about the call. Your mother's about the last person she wanted to speak to."

"It shouldn't have happened," he agreed tersely. "I thought that with Jason around, he'd be able to keep an eye on her, but it's not fair to him, either. He can stick around – for a change – but he can't keep an eye on her every single minute of every single day."

"It's only been a couple of days," Amalia pointed out, not that it particularly helped.

His appetite was gone, and Jake absently rubbed his side. "…I'm going to have to take care of this. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but I can't put it off any longer if she's going to keep trying stuff like this."


	86. Why Don't We Go

**Note – **Finally, the hit and run is winding down. Yeesh. On one hand, I'm glad I included this arc. This whole story is meant to be a tome, which means it includes a bunch of arcs that could EASILY form the basis of several individual full-length stories. But on the other, I'm just glad it's coming to a close and we can move on.

**Mean | 85**

_And if you have a minute_

_Why don't we go_

_Talk about it _

_Somewhere only we know._

_This could be the end of everything._

-- "Somewhere Only We Know," Keane

**.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.**

"Do you not have painkillers?" he asked with concern, studying the way her nose crinkled in discomfort. "I can go out and get you some right now, Mom. Seriously. And where the hell's Jason? He's the one that should be around to make sure you're okay."

"I _am_ okay," Elizabeth persisted. "It's nothing."

"First, it's not nothing. You're in pain. And second, you didn't answer my question." Jake arched a brow at her. "Mom? Where's Jason?"

She averted her gaze guiltily. "…He said he'd be back in a minute."

"That's not responsive to my question."

"He just had an errand or two to run, a few things to do."

"He doesn't _do_ anything," Jake pointed out with a humorless chuckle. "He doesn't have any work responsibilities anymore. Quit evading, Mom. Where is he?"

Elizabeth sighed heavily. "Your father just…stepped out because he thought he had a lead on the accident."

Jake closed his eyes. "You're kidding."

She was wringing her fingers together. "You don't have to worry – he said he'd go and check it out and be back before anyone knew. And he can't jeopardize your investigation, Jake. How can he?"

"He jeopardizes my investigation every time he leaves you," Jake spat. "I can't have him poking around in the same areas where my men already are. If word got out that we were both looking into the same avenues, and people started talking, it wouldn't take long to connect the dots, and I can't afford that. Everyone knows I can't stand being around him for extended periods of time, much less working with him. If they find out, it'll be very bad for everyone involved."

He ran a hand through his hair, swearing. "I told him. I _told_ him to lay low and stay with you, that he'd be our cover. I told him and he said he understood. Obviously, I can't trust him."

"That's not true, Jake," Elizabeth ground out with a frown, her anger apparent. "He's your _father_. You can always trust him."

He didn't bother to dignify a sentiment as ridiculous as that with a reply, but a simple roll of his eyes let Elizabeth know of his thoughts on the subject. "Forget it. I'll deal with him later. You have to sit down, you look like you're going to faint."

"It's nothing serious, I promise," Elizabeth replied wearily, rubbing her temples. "Jake, honestly. It's just a little headache. Probably because I didn't get enough sleep."

She wasn't about to tell her son that her head was hurting because she'd woken up that morning just a little hungover from the bottle of wine she and Jason had finished off after Jake and Lucky left.

"Mom, you haven't gotten enough sleep in several days," he pointed out, hands planted on his hips. "Since the accident. You can't keep going on like this. It's going to catch up to you and it's going to be bad."

"I'll be fine," she said wearily, sinking down on the couch. "I just…I just have to find a way to turn my mind off so that I can get some rest."

"Maybe you should take a sleeping pill or two."

"I don't like those." She wrinkled her nose, trying not to remember the first time she thought she hit someone with her car. She'd thought that mostly because she'd been given sleeping pills and they made her incredibly drowsy. "I can't think straight with them. I get so sluggish. And I can't drive or read or…anything, really. And they just knock me right out when they take effect."

"You're not driving, anyway," Jake pointed out, sitting down next to her. "You have a guard who does that for you now. And you don't need to read if you're trying to get some sleep, and no one's coming by the house anyway, so you don't have to worry about people. Mom, you're in the house all day. You can easily afford to take a couple pills and just sleep. You know you'll feel so much better afterwards."

Elizabeth considered it, her reluctance apparent. "But I always feel so out of it afterwards – hungry and irritable and achy."

"That's what painkillers are for," he shrugged. "You'll wake up after finally getting some sleep, and you'll get some food and you'll take some painkillers and you'll be better than before. And…besides, if you needed anything, Jason would be here. He _should_ be around, the bastard. He'd…be around to take care of you."

The words still left a bitter taste in his mouth, but Jake moved past it. He was not at all above using his father as a selling point to get his mother to just take the damn pills.

He must have worn her down, because she finally relented with a heavy nod. "Okay. Okay, I'll take them."

Jake was on his feet in an instant, heading into the kitchen to get her a glass of water. He handed it off to her and then trotted up the stairs to her bathroom where she kept all her medications, and was soon back downstairs with the bottle.

"These are the right ones, right?"

Elizabeth inspected the label and nodded. "Yeah, the other ones upset my stomach. These are fine."

Jake uncapped the bottle and shook two out, dropping them in her palm. "Here you go. Listen, go upstairs, change, get in bed, and just take it easy. I'll make you a sandwich or something and some water in case you get hungry. Just rest, Mom."

She nodded and passed him the half-empty glass, looking toward the stairs. "Okay. Do me a favor? Turn the thermostat up a little."

Jake headed toward the kitchen, kicking up the heat a little before he did, and he could hear his mother trudging up the stairs. He set the glass in the sink and waited until he heard her in her bedroom. The water was running in the bathroom and then he heard some light thumping as she presumably changed into her pajamas, and finally…silence.

Jake was almost done making the sandwich he'd promised her and put everything back in the fridge before pulling out his cell phone. "Yeah, Penn. It's set. Wait a half hour and then send the guys by. She'll be out cold by then, easy. And tell the others to go ahead, but make it clean. Thanks."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Docks :.**

He was being followed.

Jason knew it for a fact. Someone was tailing him, moving along in the network of alleys that joined the main docks leading up to Pier 52, and he wanted to know who and why.

Since Jake took over the business and excluded him from every aspect of it, Jason hadn't been involved in any mob activity. Sonny was still involved in various small ventures with associates of theirs, but nothing particularly noticeable. As for Jason, his time was mainly occupied by ELQ meetings (even though he didn't really have much to do there), Carly's foundation that he was still a board member of, and Elizabeth. (And, of course, whatever problems Sonny and Carly were having.)

There was no reason for anyone to be interested in anything he was doing, much less tail him, because he wasn't doing _anything_. This was a waste of time if ever there was one.

Apparently, whoever it was wasn't even trying to hide it anymore. He heard the footsteps clearly while he walked, and they stopped when he did, but always a step too late. Frustrated now, Jason decided to investigate. It sounded like it was just one person, so he had a very good chance of overpowering the guy.

He pulled his Glock out from under the waistband of his jeans and made sure it was loaded and that the safety was on before he crept up the stairs and into the alley.

It was dark despite the fact that the sun was almost directly overhead, and he listened carefully for the footsteps. He moved through the alley on light feet, gun trained, eyes peeled for any movement, and finally he heard him. The guy was nearby, somewhere right in front of him, and Jason stared at the fork before him before turning right. The sounds got closer and he knew the guy was probably right around the corner.

But before he could advance and get to the bottom of the situation, he heard footsteps behind him and turned around too late. He was grabbed from behind, easily disarmed, and a rag was placed tightly over his mouth and nose. Jason smelled the chloroform and struggled, but it was already too late. His eyes rolled backwards and his body started to sag in his assailants' firm hold.

Penn waited until Jason's unconscious form was fully relaxed before letting the junior guards take over. They frisked him and took his ankle holster, along with his phone and other personal effects.

"The car ready?"

As if on cue an engine nearby roared to life, and the guards began to carefully carry Jason over to the hidden vehicle. Penn stayed behind, making sure the coast was clear and everything was fine, and nodded to the young guard that rounded the corner and ambled toward him.

"Good work drawing him in, Mark. We're done here. Get him to the airfield and make sure it's all set up according to the boss's instructions."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Morgan Private Jet :.**

Elizabeth awoke slowly, feeling groggy and cotton-mouthed as she often did whenever she took sleeping pills. She reached out blindly to her right, expecting to find her night table where Jake had hopefully left her a bottle of water, but her hand clutched only air.

Frowning, she forced her eyes open and was stunned to see taupe walls and sleek hardwood instead of the pretty blue wallpaper in her bedroom. Panic closed in and she shot up into a sitting position, looking around frantically. She had been placed on a large couch and covered with a white crocheted blanket, her shoes on the floor and her jacket neatly lain out on the back of a nearby chair.

Her hand had been in her lap and she noticed there was a pink Post-it on it. She tore it off and squinted at it, her vision still slightly blurry.

_Look at the window._

She looked around and almost missed the window because the plastic shade had been pulled all the way down, keeping the light out. There was a white envelope taped there with her name on it and Elizabeth threw her legs off the couch, working up the strength to walk over and take it down.

When she opened it, sinking back down onto her couch to read it, she saw that it was written in Jake's neat block print, unlike his father's curly scrawl.

_Mom –_

_Don't be afraid. You're on my jet and my pilot is taking you to one of the islands I own. _

Elizabeth's head snapped toward the window and she quickly made her way toward it, pushing the shade up. She stared out and then moved down the side of the plane, pushing all the plastic shades up and letting the light in. She was greeted by an endless expanse of blue, so blue it made her itch to get out her paints and mix them until she had exactly mimicked the splendor of the ocean.

She leaned against the wall by one of the windows and continued reading.

_Don't worry about not having your things. Everything you need will be there when you arrive. I'm not sure how long you'll be staying there, but all the necessary have and will be made. When you get back, you'll tell everyone that I thought you were working too hard and insisted that you get away for a bit. _

The light in the massive main room dimmed, and when she looked out, Elizabeth saw that it was because they were flying through a thick patch of clouds.

_I am sorry it came to this. Whether you believe me or not, I regret having to send you away without being able to include you in the decision. By the time you get back, everything will be cleared up one way or another. And then you can tell whoever you want whatever you want, to your heart's content._

She bristled at that and almost crumpled the letter up to throw it away, but noticed the last sentence just in time.

_Go look in the bedroom. And don't worry, he's fine._

Elizabeth did _not_ like the sound of that. She left the letter on the oak conference table that took up almost half of the plane and darted barefoot toward the rear of the plane. She passed the bathroom and the spare room and went all the way back to where she assumed the master bedroom would be.

Sure enough, there was Jason, passed out on the bed. He was wearing his jeans and a sweater, and his shoes were placed neatly on the side of the bed. His leather jacket was on the hook behind the door, and there was a bottle of water and some painkillers on the night table.

"Oh, Jason," she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. He stirred slightly and she went over to him, getting up on the bed and taking his hand in hers as he slowly started to come to.

"_Miss Webber, I see that you're up and about," _came an infuriatingly pleasant voice over the intercom as Elizabeth and a disoriented Jason looked up at the ceiling out of habit.

"_I am your pilot for this trip, and if you have any questions, you can hit the red button on the speaker sets located throughout the plane. Please be sure to follow all proper safety procedures as you see them listed, and we'll be touching down on the island in about two hours. We're glad to have you on board, and hope you have a good trip."_

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Warehouse :.**

"Mister Morgan."

His supervisor spotted him as soon as Jake set foot in his secret warehouse, accompanied by Chase and Molly. He'd unearthed several of Sonny and Jason's little-known, dilapidated warehouses, rebuilt them all with special security features, and converted them into different facilities for his purposes. One such warehouse stored all of his phony cars: fake police cars, fake unmarked police cars, fake ambulances, fake SWAT and FBI vans, fake armored cars, fake taxis, and more. Another one became a rudimentary hospital for injured bodyguards and staff members. This one was his forensics lab and surveillance center.

"What have you got for me, Eiler?" he asked as the man came up to them.

"Sir, we're really moving this morning," he replied, steering them into the warehouse. "We received the rags with the bloodstains this morning and we've been running tests. As soon as I know more, you'll be the first person I contact."

"That's what I like to hear," Jake muttered, his narrowed eyes quickly scanning the room. A couple of his employees looked up, nodded or smiled in acknowledgment, and then went straight back to work, and Jake made a mental note to give them all a handsome bonus for making it through this ordeal.

"And I've been hearing excellent things from our surveillance department," Eiler was saying, clicking away on his Blackberry. "I'll get Galloway over here so he can tell you himself."

The doubly-reinforced steel doors separating the two halves of the warehouse slid open in about thirty seconds and a broad-shouldered man in a gray suit walked briskly toward them. Galloway, his pointman on remote surveillance, hand-picked by Molly herself.

"Boss." He shook hands with both of them and didn't waste any time or words. "We've finally accessed security tapes from right at the base of the Cliff Road where it becomes Cliff Boulevard. The city had installed a new camera at the stoplight to catch motorists who blew red lights, but it's not on the books yet and they haven't started properly monitoring it yet. We'll have the tapes before long, now that we know they exist, and we should be able to see if someone came down the Cliff Road and turned onto Oceanfront Highway immediately without entering the town."

Jake's brows jumped and he looked down at Molly, who looked encouraged. "That – that sounds great. You know to call me the second you find something."

His employee nodded. "Will do, Sir. Take care."

Molly watched him walk away and took his wrist, shaking it excitedly. "Look at that. Your week just got a whole lot better."

"Not a minute too soon, either," Jake agreed, checking his watch. "I have that interview with TIME in about an hour. I'd better head back. I'll call John and Lia on the way to the house; you keep an eye on the place, okay?"

She nodded as he turned. "You got it. Good luck. And don't say anything stupid!"

"No promises!" he called over his shoulder.


	87. Some Will Win Some Will Lose

**Note – **This one is for Amanda (amandateach on Twitter), who asked so very nicely. Let's all do everyone a favor and not pretend we're shocked by the drug-related contents of this chapter. Because we're not. :)

**Mean | 86**

_Working hard to get my fill;_

_Everybody wants a thrill._

_Saying anything to roll the dice_

_Just one more time. _

_Some will win,_

_Some will lose._

_Some were born to sing the blues._

-- "Don't Stop Believing," Journey

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

It was two in the morning and he'd finally gotten rid of the reporter from TIME. The guy was nice enough and spending about six hours with him hadn't been entirely unpleasant, exactly, but Jake had too much to do.

The problem was that there was no way to push back the interview. The Person of the Year issue had an immutable deadline; there were no exceptions, not even for him. Aside from that, it was his job to be charming and affable and charismatic during the whole interview portion, so that also proved to be a challenge given everything else on his mind.

They'd talked about a multitude of topics over dinner and drinks and then a few games of pool. Jake had given the reporter a tour of the house and the grounds before they retired to the private parlor. The guy had tried to talk about his paternity, of course, but Jake hadn't budged in his refusal to discuss that, so they'd moved on to Edward, ELQ, his new presence on Wall Street, changes to his business, his mother, brother, friends, and Amalia.

He'd been tired out by the end and probably said a few things about Amalia he shouldn't have, but it didn't matter. It was over and he could get back to work. Either that, or he could catch a few hours' worth of sleep and _then_ get back to work.

He hadn't spoken to his mother or Jason since he'd shipped them off. He didn't regret doing it: his mother had been making things extremely difficult for him. First, she almost confessed to Lucky. Then, John and Claudia. Then she'd gotten herself drunk and called Nadine, which was the last straw.

As for Jason, he and Jake had agreed that Jason would keep an eye on Elizabeth and serve as the cover for their investigation into the accident. When he proved that he couldn't handle that and still had the urge to run around and try his hand at playing the hero, Jake decided that it would be better to kill two birds with one stone.

He didn't regret his actions mostly because they left him with little choice. And he wasn't in the business of regret; with his lifestyle, he couldn't sit around and angst over every minute implication of each of his decisions. He made the call as he saw fit and that was it; if problems arose later as a result of that, he dealt with them the same way. It was the most efficient, if not cerebral, way to go, and he'd always been something of a control-freak that way.

He had, however, spoken to his point-man on the island, and had been informed that they'd had something of a rough landing. Jason had proved difficult when they touched down and had demanded to be taken back to Port Charles, and then had demanded to speak to Jake.

Since the guards had taken care to remove all of Jason and Elizabeth's personal effects and had disabled telephone and internet access on the island except for their personal cell phones, this was impossible. Jason hadn't been pleased with that answer, and Jake learned that he had to be 'personally escorted' to the house.

His point-man, as if anticipating concern that Jake might or might not have articulated, assured him that they were mindful of his father's age and took care not to harm him. Jake hadn't dignified that particular remark with even a grunt.

All the necessary arrangements had been made on the island for his parents' arrival, and Jake understood that aside from their displeasure with him for shipping them there, they were doing well.

With his parents safely out of sight and out of mind, Jake could devote all of his energy to getting to the bottom of his mother's accident without having to worry about who she was out confessing to that day. Her urgent need to absolve herself of _certain_ lies never failed to perplex him; if she had been so eager to confess her lies about his paternity, their lives would be very different today.

Chase and Penn understood that everything was to be kept quiet while the reporter from TIME was at the house and were handling the situation on their own, but now that the interview was over, Jake wanted to touch base.

He stood in the middle of the hallway upstairs, looking to his right toward his bedroom and to his left toward the stairs that would lead down to his office. He could either get some much-needed sleep, or he could get back to clearing his mother's name.

He didn't know how long he stood like that, in the middle of the hallway in the dark, but was eventually aware of walking down the thickly carpeted corridor to the stairs and descending them noiselessly.

He was back in his office, and then he was sitting at his desk without remembering much in between. No one used this portion of his office except him, and that was why the bag was right in the corner of the drawer, untouched since the last time he'd needed it.

What had once been a spotless mirror was speckled with dust now as he worked the blade, and it remained cloudy as he constructed a couple short, thin lines. There were bills in his wallet, but Jake didn't notice which crisp denomination he drew out. It was soon tightly rolled and skillfully inserted, followed by a shock to his system that had become welcome and affirming.

Jake sat back, sputtering and swiping the excess from his nostril, and reveled in the jolt. After a moment he was back, his hand shooting out to snatch the phone from its cradle.

His knee jiggled while the phone rang. "Yeah, Chase. Any new developments?"

There were and he hung up without saying goodbye, then rang for a guard that appeared at his door too slowly for Jake's liking.

"Get me to the warehouse," he said, standing up and snatching his coat off the back of the door, blowing past the junior guard who knew enough to understand that his eagerness had to do with more than his interest in helping his mother. "Now."

"Right away, Mister Morgan."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: The Island, Undisclosed Location :.**

Elizabeth awoke to the chirps of tropical birds. The sun hadn't yet risen and everything was dark, but the birds sensed dawn's imminent arrival and were making it known.

The balcony doors, wide open now, invited in balmy air that settled over her like a blanket, and Elizabeth ran her hand through her rumpled hair. Jason was still fast asleep, never one to pay attention to the birds. His chest rose and fell evenly, steadily, and she watched him sleep as the birds continued their chatter.

Jason said this island wasn't like the one he and Sonny owned. From what she'd gathered – even though she'd never been – theirs was somewhere in the Caribbean, while this didn't feel like it was. Jason said that Jake had probably sold that island property, because Spinelli couldn't find any record of it among Jake's holdings no matter how hard he searched.

The staff would be up and about soon, getting breakfast started and generally keeping things in order. Breakfast would be a large but lonely affair: there would be food heaped on their plates with delicate little dishes holding butter and jam and everything else spread across the table, but it would only be her and Jason enjoying it.

The beach would be as picturesque as always, but it would be only her and Jason walking along the surf. The outdoor dinner would be something out of a glossy travel magazine, but as the sun slowly slid away and set the ocean alight in bright, flaming colors, only she and Jason would be sitting in the hammock to bear witness to the splendor.

These lazy island days, as nice as they were, were otherwise quiet and subdued.

She was still angry with Jake for doing this, but Elizabeth had taken to reminding herself to enjoy her time spent here with Jason. They weren't free to properly be together in Port Charles, given the scrutiny once Jake's paternity secret came out. It was bad enough when it was just the people of Port Charles whispering about her behind her back, but then the tabloids picked it up and before she knew it, some guy with a FOXNEWS microphone was trying to get a quote from her when she was picking up breakfast at Kelly's.

She wasn't ready to go public with Jason – not just yet. He was able to come to the house without too many people knowing, thanks to the protection Jake's guards afforded. They kept the press and paparazzi off Cherry Blossom Lane with such consistency and determination that they'd all pretty much given up, and weren't around to snap photos of Jason entering and exiting the house.

But going out to dinner with him? To events and fundraisers and parties? She wasn't ready for that just yet and thankfully, Jason understood and didn't push her.

And that was the silver lining here: they had, quite literally, a small island to themselves. They could do whatever they wanted without worrying about anything, and the tropical weather was beautiful and the staff members were pleasant and minded their own business.

If she had to be exiled somewhere by her own son, this island was probably one of the better places.

Jason was still fast asleep, and Elizabeth carefully lowered her head onto his shoulder. He didn't wake up but slowly brought his arm around her, his large hand settling on the curve of her hip. She closed her eyes and turned her face into the crook of his neck, and slowly drifted back to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Warehouse :.**

"A wolf?"

"That's what I said, sir," Eiler nodded, passing him the clipboard. Jake took it, scanning it quickly. "The blood on the rags used to clean your mother's car at the repair shop belongs to a wolf, not a person."

"So…she didn't hit Claudia." It was said on a sigh, and even though his body was humming with chemical energy, some small part of him, somewhere, finally relaxed.

"Not a chance, sir. During the past six hours we had time to analyze several different blood samples from several of the towels, and they all match to that of a wolf. There is not a trace of human blood on the cloth. As long as you're positive that these are the rags that were used to clean the car shortly after it was delivered to the repair shop, then we can say with absolute certainty that your mother did not hit Claudia Zacchara with her car."

Jake threw the clipboard over his shoulder, where it was quickly caught by another warehouse forensic scientist, and moved forward to eagerly pump Eiler's hand. The man stumbled a bit as Jake launched himself at him, but kept his balance. "Best news I've heard all week. After this, whatever you want, Eiler, it's yours. And everyone who's been clocked in tonight will be getting huge bonuses. Count on it."

"That's very generous of you, sir," the supervisor replied politely. He knew what it was that was making his employer rather boisterous in these pre-dawn hours, but knew better than to call attention to it.

"Is Molly still around?"

"No. I think she went home a couple of hours ago. Should I call her?"

Jake shook his head. "Don't wake her. Just send her an email so she'll see it when she gets up. Tell her she doesn't need to stop by the warehouse again because I already did, and to check in with me whenever she gets the message."

"You got that?" A young man at Eiler's side nodded and quickly pulled out his phone to leave the message. "Sir, you'll probably want to check in with Galloway to see what he's found on the tapes."

"Good idea," Jake boomed, already heading toward the other side of the building. "Later, Eiler."

The supervisor waited until his boss was out of earshot, then quickly waved over a subordinate. "Go with him," he ordered quietly, rolling his eyes good-naturedly when the young man looked at him curiously. "Oh, for fuck's sake, he's strung out of his mind. How do you _think_ he manages to stay awake to deal with all this? Go with him, just in case."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Morgan Manor :.**

The sun was already up as Jake stumbled in through the front doors of his magnificent estate. Briarly was waiting for him and neatly divested him of his coat, scarf, and gloves as Jake just stood in the foyer and blinked. Such were the talents of a good butler.

"Will you be taking a bath before retiring to your bedroom, sir?"

Jake shook his head, feeling a little dizzy as the cocaine began to wear off. "No. I just wanna go to…sleep."

"Quite, sir." Briarly was unfazed by this, having seen his employer in various states of inebriation before. "I have laid out your bed clothes and will keep Wolfe downstairs so he doesn't disturb you. Please remember to ring when you awake and I shall bring up food for you."

"You kick so much ass, Briarly," Jake yawned, running a hand through his hair as his butler quickly took off his wet shoes.

"So I've been told, sir," came the dry reply. "Very good. Come along, then."

"I can get to my room by myself."

"No, sir, you cannot."

"You're awfully bossy for a butler, you know that?" Jake frowned as Briarly slipped his arm into his and guided him toward the stairs. "Hey, when I wake up, can you get Cook to send me a double cheese-burger?"

"A double turkey-cheese-burger, of course, sir."

"I said, a double _cheese-burger_."

"You know very well that Cook won't oblige that request, Master Jake," Briarly informed him in a clipped tone. "She worries about your health. As well she ought to."

"There's nothing wrong with my health," he yawned as they wound their way up the stairs. "I've got an iron constitution and…and…stuff. I'mma live forever, you know."

"You can live forever eating double-turkey-cheese-burgers, then, sir."

"You are such an asshole, Briarly."

"I'm well aware, sir." They reached the top of the stairs and the butler continued guiding him down the hall into the master bedroom. "There we are, sir. Now, I've laid out your bed clothes on the – Sir?"

Jake mumbled something incoherent and flopped down headfirst on the bed, not even bothering to scoot all the way up, and Briarly threw his hands up in the air and quietly walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Jake awoke three hours later, there was no cheese-burger. There wasn't even a turkey cheese-burger.

However, he _did_ find Amalia sitting by the window in one of his fancy armchairs, reading a book in the crisp winter sunlight, and decided that she was better than a burger, anyway, so shit worked out.

"Hey." He rubbed his eyes sleepily. The sound of his low, rough voice startled her, and she jumped a little in her chair. "What are you doing here?"

"I told Chase to call me when you got in," she replied, marking her page and quietly setting the book down on the windowsill before making her way over to the bed. Jake had moved up a bit in his sleep, and she sat down on the edge next to him and gently smoothed his hair away from his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Jake mumbled, enjoying the feeling of her cool fingers on his cheek.

"You sure?" She didn't look convinced. "You just got in three hours ago. And you've been up for two days straight."

Jake shrugged lazily and rolled over so he was on his back. "Eh. You know how it is with me."

She looked down at him with sympathetic blue eyes, her long hair falling slightly in her face and barely tickling his exposed forearm. "You still can't sleep right, huh?"

He shook his head and settled a large hand on her thigh, pinching the thick fabric of her embroidered sweater dress between his fingers. "…She didn't do it."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "Your mother."

Jake nodded. "She didn't hit Claudia. She hit a wolf. The same damn wolf that Penn and the guys found dead on the side of the mountain, near its den."

Amalia let out a whooshing breath, raising her hand to her face. "A wolf. She hit a _wolf_?"

Jake nodded again, suddenly missing his dog. "Yup. Whoever hit Claudia, it wasn't my mom. She's in the clear."

She rubbed at her eyes, and he could see her lips quiver. "That's good for her. I mean it. But we still don't have any answers as to who did this to Aunt Claudie."

"Hey." He sat up quickly, ignoring the way the room spun at first, and gripped her hand. "Look at me. I'm not going to stop until we find out who it was. Neither is your dad. Just because my mom didn't hit her doesn't mean that we're slowing down in any way."

Jake brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, and gently took her chin. "I'm not going to rest until we know who did this to her. She…She's my family, too, you know."

Or, at least, she would be soon enough, ideally, but Jake left that part unspoken.

Amalia was looking at him with wide eyes, silently asking him what he meant by that, but Jake ignored the look and scooted past her, swinging his legs down to the floor.

"Come on," he said. "Just let me grab a clean suit, and we'll go down to General Hospital and tell your dad what my guys found out."

"What?" She rose slowly as he walked over to his closet, shedding clothes as he went and letting them drop to the floor. "But – you should eat something first. Jake, you've been awake for two days, you only just got home, you should-"

"I'm fine," he called from the closet, and she could hear him rummaging through his many suits. "I'll grab something at the hospital. Right now…I just really want to talk to your dad."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: The Island, Undisclosed Location :.**

Elizabeth swirled her lemonade, watching the pomegranate seeds dance about in the peach-colored liquid. "…What do you think will happen if he finds out I did it?"

Jason glanced up from the newspaper he'd been given by one of the guards. It wasn't much, but the printed words carried with them some semblance of normality. "Don't think like that."

"I'm not thinking like anything," she half-hissed back at him. Relaxing in an island paradise sure had a way of putting a girl on edge. "There are two possible outcomes here, Jason. Either Jake will find out that I did it, or that I didn't do it. Since the odds are pretty slim that I didn't do it, I was just…wondering…"

Jason sighed and folded his paper in his lap, watching the waves crash against the white beach in the distance. She was right, of course. And when he told her not to think like that, it was only because _he_ didn't want to think about it.

But Elizabeth was right. As she'd said so frankly, there were only two possibilities. And since this incident involved and affected her so deeply, he figured that the least he could do was be honest with her.

"Well…"

The single word had her looking at him eagerly.

"If you didn't do it, he'll just bring us bask to Port Charles and that's it. If anyone asks, you won't have anything to hide. But if it was your car that hit her…"

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "A couple things could happen. Johnny could want to press charges. He…He doesn't really like you that much anymore."

That was an understatement. He'd been one of her closest friends in the past, and had tried hesitantly to make amends when she'd turned on him after finding out that he knew the secret about her son. When she continuously rebuffed his attempts and clashed with Nadine and Amalia, he gave up and treated her as indifferently as a perfect stranger. This Johnny Zacchara would not be inclined to bestow upon her any favors.

"That would mean a formal investigation, which will be easy since Jake and Johnny have been working together on this," Jason mused. "Johnny will already have access to the evidence he needs. That will probably lead to criminal charges, and then jail time."

She gasped, but he wasn't done. "But I don't think it'll go that far. I think that if Jake can't dissuade Johnny from filing charges, they'll work something out before it gets to a judge. And even if it does get to a judge, Jake will do his best to make sure you're acquitted."

Elizabeth gripped her glass of pomegranate lemonade tightly and watched Jason as he outlined the different scenarios.

"But I think that if you really did it, Jake and Johnny would work out a deal and cover it up."

"…Cover it up?"

Jason nodded, still not looking at her. "Jake would talk to Johnny and get him to agree not to go after you. They'd either hide it from Claudia and tell her it was a mob hit and the cops were investigating so they had to make someone take the fall for it, or they'd tell her the truth and Jake and Johnny would get her to agree not to come after you."

"She wouldn't do that."

"She loves Johnny, and she might go along with things if Jake asked, too," he said grimly. "She always did enjoy throwing her relationship with him in your face. Besides, he'll owe her. You'll owe her. That's attractive to a woman like Claudia."

"…What will happen then?"

"They'll find someone – a lackey, someone that owes them big, someone in trouble, someone desperate. They'll set it up to make it look like he hit Claudia. He'll be convicted, he'll do time. If they care enough, they'll spring him and set him up with a life elsewhere. If they don't, they'll just leave him there. It's not hard. It's done all the time."

"Ugh." Her stomach lurched at the thought of an innocent man doing time for her crime. "I don't even to think about this."

"You asked."

"I know I asked," she snapped at him. "I just…I just can't think about this. Someone who's innocent doing time for what I did…? It makes me _sick_, Jason."

He just shrugged. "It's how we've always done it. Jake knows. This is how it's done in our world."

That thought proved even more unsettling than the former, and her stomach lurched again.


	88. Pray for Proof

**Note **– I love that we're so close to the end of this hit and run arc. THANK GOD. Last chapter before law skoo starts up again. At the end of this semester I'll be 2/3 done. WHAT UP BITCHES.

**Mean | 87**

_If no one moves_

_Then nobody's gonna get hurt. _

_Don't move,_

'_cause nobody wants to get hurt_

_We'll pray for proof_

_I'm probably making this up._

-- "Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt," We are Scientists

**.: General Hospital :.**

"Jake!"

His brother called out to him as soon as they stepped out onto the fifth floor. Jake glanced down at Amalia and tipped his head toward the hallway that led all the way down to the ICU. "Listen, why don't you go see your dad and your aunt and I'll meet you in a couple minutes?"

She nodded and smiled politely at Cameron before moving away, and Jake joined his brother. "What's up?"

Cameron was studying his slightly bloodshot eyes and rough skin. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jake replied quickly, not wanting his brother to dwell on his health. Why did everyone always do that? "What's up?"

"I know Mom said that Jason was taking her away for a bit," he started slowly, referring to the message the secretary for the Immunology department had given him when he came in to work the other day, "but it's not like her not to check in. Has she spoken to you at all?"

Jake glanced around and then gestured to the hall where Cameron's office was. "Let's talk about this inside."

"I already hate the sound of this," his brother grumbled, leading them around the hub and into the administrative wing. "All right, let's have it. How loudly am I going to yell this time?"

Jake shut the door carefully and then turned to face him. "The vacation wasn't Jason's idea. I was the one that arranged her days off, and I was the one that sent both of them out of the country."

"Aha." Cameron sat down on the edge of his desk. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and say they didn't go willingly."

Jake remained silent.

His brother sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Okay. What _can_ you tell me, Jake?"

"They're on an island in French Polynesia, presumably having a wonderful time."

"Presumably."

"Uh-huh."

Cameron's sober brown eyes crinkled with slight amusement. "And they're fine."

Jake snorted. "Of course."

"_Both_ of them."

He rolled his eyes. "_Yes_, Jason's fine. What do you take me for?"

Cameron chuckled, unable to help himself. "Mom's going to kill you when you bring her back."

Jake shrugged. "Don't really care. She can do whatever she wants. She knows that I never would have sent her away if she hadn't forced my hand."

"What did she- Ah. Never mind."

"Yeah."

"Okay," Cameron finally shrugged after a long moment of silence. "As long as they're both fine. And they'll be back…soon?"

"We'll see."

He let out a frustrated sigh, but nodded anyway, ushering his brother out of his office and back into the hallway. "Okay. Fair enough, I guess. Thanks for telling me."

"I didn't want you to worry."

"Yeah."

"Besides, Mom would have just bitched about it to you as soon as she got home, anyway."

"Oh, yeah."

"I'll tell you the whole story when I can."

"That's cool, you don't have to," Cameron shrugged. "I know there are things you can't really talk about."

"This isn't really one of those things," he replied. "I have to wait until it's all wrapped up, yeah, but it doesn't have anything to do with the business or anything. We good here?"

"We're good," his brother smiled, clapping him on the back. "Go see Claudia. From what I hear, her vitals are good, but she hasn't woken up yet. John and Nadine are there now. They'll be happy to see you."

"Later, Cam."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Cameron said he heard she was doing good."

Johnny nodded wearily, scrubbing his hand over the dark stubble on his cheek and jaw. "Yeah. Nadine says she should be waking up soon."

He sighed and looked down at his sister. "…They've been saying that for days."

"She'll wake up, John," Jake said quietly, squeezing Amalia's hand as he did so. "You know she will. Any day now, she'll wake up and yell at you for taking her to a hick hospital instead of having her air-lifted to Presbyterian in the city."

That got a smile out of the older man, who hadn't noticed just how closely the two were sitting together. "Yeah, she probably _would_ say that."

"She's sedated pretty heavily, right?"

Amalia nodded. "Yeah. Mom ran through all the drugs they have her on – it's a lot."

"So she'll probably wake up when they start to wear off," Jake reasoned. "Remember when I got shot?"

Both father and daughter cringed, but he continued anyway. "Cam had me on all kinds of shit. Painkillers, antibiotics, coagulants, all sorts of shit. I was out of it for days. Hell, I don't think anyone knows this, but I was only barely lucid when we signed the contracts that made me a full partner. It takes some time to come out of it."

The door eased open and Nadine entered with a little tray of coffee and some snacks from the vending machine. Jake let go of Amalia's hand and quickly stood, taking it from her. He set it on the table and handed out the coffee, but left the food where it was even though he was starving. He hadn't eaten anything since that early dinner the night before with the TIME reporter, but had already discovered that eating too much after coming down from a high made him ill.

Nadine was watching him curiously as she stirred her coffee with the pathetic little straw, and Jake cleared his throat and turned away a little before she could get a closer look. It figures that he had to spend time in the company of a trained nurse the morning after a couple lines.

At least his mother was on the island.

The thought made him smirk, but he hid his smile against the rim of his cup. His thoughts were all over the place, as were his emotions, and the only thing he had to do right now was keep it together until he could go home, eat, and rest.

"Sorry I didn't get something more substantial," Nadine was saying, making a face at the individually packaged snacks. "But the smell in the cafeteria was making me nauseous, so I left."

"Probably because you're hungry," Amalia pointed out, reaching for a pack of Fig Newtons. She hated them, but her parents had always liked them. "Have some, Mom, they're your favorite."

"…I used to have such bad cravings for these when I was pregnant with you," Nadine mused, eyeing the cookie with a soft look in her eyes. Johnny, too, was smiling. "Elizabeth hates figs, and she was pregnant with you at the time, so she never hung out with me when I was on a Fig Newton binge. The first and only time she did, she actually threw up, right on the floor of the staff lounge."

"She'd make me run out and get them from that wholesale food store," Johnny piped up. "What was it? Cost Savers? Cost Effective Mart? Something like that. Your aunt took great issue with the whole endeavor."

"Oh, she _hated_ it," his wife agreed with a tired little grin. "First, I was this random floozy that got knocked up with a little spawn to trap her beloved little brother."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Okay, she only thought that for, like, _two weeks_ after you told us you were pregnant. Claudie came around pretty fast, actually. I was impressed. By the end of your second trimester, she liked you two better than she liked me."

Nadine patted him on the arm as Amalia leaned against Jake's side. "That's because you were being a complete oaf, honey. Anyway, second, I was making her beloved little brother shop at a place called _Cost Effective Mart_ where they sold cases of cookies and a ten pound drum of nutmeg right next to a keg of powdered bleach."

"Is that what they called it? A keg?"

"It looked like a keg," she informed her husband crossly. "And third, I was eating Fig Newtons. Fig Newtons, probably the most disgusting cookies in all of creation as far as your aunt was concerned."

Jake looked across the large hospital room where Claudia was sleeping under the 800-count sheets. No one had dared to put her in one of the normal rooms – she was Claudia Zacchara, after all, and the staff had known she'd pitch a fit as soon as she woke up. "What did she have against Fig Newtons?"

"She said it was disgusting that they took fresh, juicy figs, sold the good ones, ran the bad ones through a processor with lots of chemicals, and stuffed it into a wet, slimy little cookie shell and packaged it around the time of the Korean war to be sold in supermarkets today," Johnny explained. "Plus, the shape bothered her. The little rectangles. Claudie's very much against Euclidian perfection in her food."

"So every time she saw me eating Fig Newtons, she'd tell Cook to make me fig muffins or fig pie or something like that," Nadine continued, "and then she'd come and take my cookies away and make me eat whatever she'd gotten Cook to make, and then I'd cry, and then she'd yell, and then Johnny would have us separated for a couple of days before he let her around me again, and then she'd see me eating Fig Newtons and the whole thing would repeat itself."

Jake and Amalia were trying their best not to laugh outright, and doing quite well, at that. "That's why you should probably finish those before she wakes up."

Nadine smiled a little, a brighter smile than before, and nibbled on the cookie. Johnny slipped his arm around her waist and leaned into her a little, and Amalia grabbed a little packet of snack cakes and pulled Jake back onto the couch with her.

"…Jake?"

He looked up at Nadine as Amalia placed one of the chocolate frosted cakes in his palm. "Yeah?"

"I don't know what I would have done if it was your mother that hit her." She was gazing at her sister-in-law, half of her cookie still in hand. "I'm so relieved she didn't do it."

"So am I," Jake sighed, looking down at Amalia, who nodded as she rested her head on his shoulder and made delicate work of the snack cake.

"So are we all," Johnny murmured, looking over at his sister. They left the last thought unsaid, but it settled into the room anyway: even though it wasn't Elizabeth that hit her, that still didn't make things right. They had to find out who really did.

Jake's phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, reluctantly. He flashed Amalia an apologetic look as she straightened, allowing him to stand. "I'm so sorry. I'll be right back, I just have to take this."

They let him go without a second thought, and Jake closed the door quietly behind him. He glanced around to make sure that no one was there. "Jake."

"_Boss, I think I might have something." _It was Galloway from the warehouse, the one in charge of surveillance. _"The camera we tapped into – the red light camera that the cops haven't streamed into yet – I think I have something. It's a photo of a car, taken about ten minutes after we think the accident happened, that turned off of Ocean Shore instead of coming into town. It's grainy, but the front fender is busted up and whoever's in it was driving erratically."_

"Can you get a plate?"

"_We're working on blowing it up right now, sir. We'll have the plate number within an hour."_

"I want to see the picture."

"_Where are you? I'll send someone out with it."_

"Bring it to the hospital," he directed. "I'm on the fifth floor."

"_Got it. I'm sending one of the boys out now. He'll be there in about ten to fifteen minutes."_

"Thanks. Good work, Galloway."

"_Boss."_

Jake slipped his phone back into his pocket, energized now. They would have a plate number shortly, and after that it wouldn't take long at all. They could trace the car, get the information on the driver, and then chase that fucker down. It wouldn't be long at all now.

There was still, of course, the chance that it wasn't the person that had hit Claudia, but the odds were in their favor now if Galloway was right and the picture was snapped by the camera ten minutes after the accident occurred. That was about how long it took to get from that spot on the Cliff Road to where Ocean Shore stopped being a country highway and turned into a city street.

He opened the door to Claudia's suite and poked his head in. "Listen, I have to duck out for a bit. I'm expecting one of my men to deliver something that will help us track down the car that hit her. I'll be back in about twenty minutes."

Johnny, who was sitting on a couch with his arm around his wife, perked up at this but settled back down when he remembered that he was probably needed more in this room. Besides, he trusted Jake completely in this matter, and in most. He knew the younger man would handle it just like he himself would. "All right. We'll be here."

~*~*~*~*~*~

He stood near the hub, going through his messages, because his messenger would be there shortly with the photograph from the red light camera. It was incredibly promising news, and Jake was thrilled that the end was finally in sight – provided that all of this paid off.

Molly had checked in and said she'd be swinging by the hospital later to check in with Amalia and her family, and Kristina was in town and meant to do the same. She was handling a products liability suit for him in the city and kept him informed with frequent updates. Thankfully, he didn't have to show up in person for this trial; he didn't know what he would have done if that demanded his immediate attention, too.

"Hey. We need to talk."

He looked up to find Damien Spinelli staring him down intensely, and Jake resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He took his time exiting out of the menu on his phone before slipping it into his pocket, making sure to look bored.

"What?"

"I have to talk to you about your parents," Spinelli hissed. "I thought you'd appreciate doing that in private."

Jake shrugged and led the way to the waiting room just off the side of the hub. He could tell Spinelli was surprised that he hadn't chosen a conference room, or an empty hospital room. He turned around and arched a brow at him. "Now, what's this you were saying about Jason and my mother?"

If Spinelli noticed how Jake didn't use the same words he did, he didn't acknowledge it. "I've been trying to call Stone Cold for two days now. Two days. And he's not picking up. A quick ask around town turned up the fact that your mother isn't around, either. I know you had something to do with it."

Jake shrugged amiably. "If you know, then I hardly see why we're having this conversation. You're Jackal, P.I. You know all. Congratulations."

Spinelli bristled at that. "What did you do?"

"I thought you already knew."

"Do you honestly think I won't bring the police in on this if I have to?" The older man's green eyes were narrowed and lethal. "Not because they'd actually help, but because it'd get this attention. Don't think I can't make things _very_ difficult for you."

Jake snorted with laughter. "Do you honestly think that bringing attention to the matter would help any? There are several people in this town that received messages that both my mother and Jason would be away for a couple days and don't want to be contacted. Doctor Ford, for one. Cameron's secretary. Cameron. And I would certainly agree with that, too. Who would trust a Jackal over a woman's own two sons?"

"That's not-"

"And it wouldn't be difficult at all to place a few charges on my mother's and Jason's credit card," he shrugged. "A hotel room in Paris. Chocolates in Switzerland. Wine in Tuscany. Whatever I feel like. You should know better than anyone, Spinelli: I _always_ cover my tracks."

He was seething with anger now, pale and gaunt with tension and frustration. "You packed them up and sent them away, didn't you?"

Jake remained silent.

"I knew it," he muttered. "That's so – hypocritical of you, you know that? Not that I expected any better from you."

"And how, may I ask, is it hypocritical?" Jake drawled. "Fill me in, Jackal."

"I know that you think the Maternal One hit Vixenella." Old nicknames died hard. "Maxie overheard her talking to Lucky. I know you're looking into the matter because you're tight with the Septic Son."

"I'm going to need a translation guide one of these days."

Spinelli ignored him. "You shipped them off to somewhere without any contact to the outside world because it would be easier for you – it would make your life simpler if you could just do what you wanted to here without having to deal with them."

"When individuals who may or may not be guilty of a felony insist on nearly confessing to half the town, they are a liability for those conducting an investigation into the matter," Jake ground out. "And they're a liability to themselves, too."

"She has a secret, and you shipped her off so she couldn't share it," Spinelli spat. "If she wants to tell her ex-husband, a cop, by the way, that she might have done something, he would try to help her. It's up to her to decide who she wants to tell – she's not a child! And neither is Stone Cold!"

They were getting louder now, and Jake eased in a step closer, his voice tight but humming with barely restrained anger. "Are you even listening to yourself? Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound? Suggesting that a woman who only _thinks_ she ran someone over with her car should be allowed to incriminate herself to the chief of police? Hell, even those who are guilty beyond the shadow of a doubt have the right not to condemn themselves at the hands of the justice system. Sometimes, I wonder what _world_ you live in Spinelli."

He opened his mouth to protest, but Jake wasn't done. "And then I'm reminded. You live in the world where everything that Jason does is right, everything he says is gospel. And that carries over to my mother, right? Well, understand this. They're both idiots. My mother thought for sure that she hit a woman with her car and kept driving. She told Jason. Then she tried to tell a whole bunch of other people that she actually did it. While I was trying to prove she didn't. She's done this before, when I was a baby, and obviously, time has taught her fucking nothing.

"And you'd think that Jason, who had to deal with her stringing herself up on the cross while he was trying to absolve her and _begging her _to keep her damn mouth shut, you'd think that he would know better this time and would stick to her side to make sure she didn't say anything to anyone. But that bastard has to go running around looking for clues by himself, knowing that I'm on the case already and my resources and manpower far outnumber him, even when he was at the height of his power. So remember that, Spinelli. Join us here, in reality."

The detective's hands were clenched into fists. "They have reasons for what they do. Stone Cold will always want to protect the Maternal One any way he can. And if I'm remembering this right, you had a secret, too. When you were a kid. And you told everyone that you wanted to, without-"

"Are you _seriously_ comparing the secret of my paternity to this?" His voice boomed in the hub, and everyone nearby turned and stared. Mindful of their gazes but determined not to show it, Jake kept his eyes trained on Spinelli.

"My secret wasn't an action, like my mother's. Her secret and Jason's secret was actively _hiding_ and lying about my paternity. That was an act, an action. My secret was knowledge. I found out. My secret didn't endanger lives or jeopardize freedom like this one. My secret wasn't of the same magnitude as _this one_. My secret was in no way comparable to what's going on now, and if you legitimately believe it is, you're an even stupider fuck than I could have imagined."

He shouldered past Spinelli, his expression thunderous, and turned over his shoulder when he was a couple paces away. "Oh, and go crying to whoever you want, Jackal. It won't make any difference. I'm the one in charge now. It's obvious you're merely having a hard time dealing with that, which is not my problem."

Jake spotted his messenger standing by the elevators and waved him forward. The young man trotted up as Jake turned into the corridor, more than ready to get away from those prying eyes, and handed him an envelope.

"Just as you requested, Boss."

"Thanks. You can go now."

He strode down the hall toward Claudia's room and saw Johnny waiting outside for him. He must have seen the look on Jake's face because he started forward, one of his hands outstretched in his typical manner that signified concern. But before he could say anything, Jake held up the envelope and quickly tore it open with his fingernail.

Johnny shut his mouth and looked over his shoulder as Jake pulled out a grainy eight-by-ten of a car about to turn at a red light.

"…Bingo."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Molly stepped off the elevator just as Jake was about to step on. "Hey!"

"Hey, yourself." She was holding two paper sacks of food from Kelly's for Amalia's family, and Jake quickly moved to take them. She resisted but let him take one, and they moved off to the side. "You get my message?"

"About the picture? Yes." She adjusted her grip on the food and tilted her head, staring up at him. "…You're looking rough."

"I'm fine, I just need to drink more water."

"You need to use Red Bull instead of coke like normal people," she grumbled. "Or munch on chocolate-covered coffee beans. That's what I always do."

"Yeah?" He eyed her quizzically. "It shows. Anyway, about the picture…"

"Yes, I got it. Galloway's on top of it, but I told him that if he needs me, to call. I just came to drop this food off for Li."

"All right. Come on, I'll walk you to Claudia's room."

They crossed the hub and headed over to the hallway leading to the suites, and they'd just turned when Amalia came trotting from the hall and crashed into Jake.

He switched the bag to the other arm and grabbed her, steadying her. "Hey, hey."

"Whoa!" Molly almost lost her hold on the food but recovered nicely. She straightened and laughed at the little run-in. "Man, you must be hungry."

Amalia managed to smile weakly at her best friend, but remained pale and tense. "Sorry about that."

Jake just looked at her without saying anything, and Molly glanced up at him "Uh…Lemme just take that. I'll go get this stuff to your parents."

She moved away down the hall, and Jake looked around. There were too many people, so he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a quiet corner of the hall.

"Come here. What happened?"

She was already shaking her head. "I – I was trying to find my dad. He said he'd be in the hub. He was talking to Corwin or one of his other men, I don't know."

"What was your hurry?"

"I was on the roof," Amalia finally said. "I got a call from Morgan and I went up there to take it. I was coming down the stairs and – and it sounded like there was someone behind me."

"In the stairwell?"

"Yes. Whenever I walked, he walked. When I stopped, he stopped. At the end, I was just running as fast as I could, and I could hear the steps behind me the whole time-"

His eyes searched hers urgently. "Did you see anyone on the roof with you? Hear anyone?"

"No, no, there was no one on the roof. It was empty."

"When did it start? The steps, the sounds, when did it all start?"

"I had climbed down maybe two floors, I think, when I heard it."

He pursed his lips and thought. "…You're sure about this? Did you see who it was when you came down onto the fifth?"

"I was too freaked out," she admitted. "I just kept going. Remember when we were kids and we got your mom to tell us the story of the time she was kidnapped by that tattooed guy and taken to the roof? That was all I could think about. I just kept running."

"It's okay," he said quietly, wishing they were somewhere private right now. He didn't like holding her hand or putting his arms around her in public; people always started talking and it wasn't good for either of them. "You're fine now – there are people here. Your father's men are stationed at the hospital. A couple of mine are, too, just in case. I'll tell mine to stick a little closer to you. It's going to be fine."

"I know that," she said, trying to stifle a sheepish laugh as she ran her hand through her hair. "I do. I just – I just freaked out. I know everything's fine, I know no one's…"

She trailed off, and he was glad for it. "I'm going to go back to Aunt Claudie."

"Your mom's there," Jake nodded. "So's Moll. And they've got food. I have to go but I'll be back, okay? Are you going to be at the house tonight?"

"On Cherry Blossom," Amalia said softly. "My mom or dad might be, too, depending "

"I'll stop by," he promised. "I'll be there, okay?"

She nodded and Jake kissed her cheek quickly, without drawing too much attention. "See you then."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Undisclosed location :.**

The sea breeze ruffled her hair as Elizabeth gazed out at the ocean, charcoal in hand and peach lemonade at her side. Jason sat nearby on a sea grass lounge chair, reading the newspaper.

"Do you think he'll ever stop this? Give this up?"

He looked up with a start, blinking at her from behind his glasses. "Stop what?"

She waved her piece of charcoal helplessly. "This whole…thing. His business. His operations or whatever. I mean, you stopped. You decided at some point that you wanted something more, than you wanted to settle down, that you wanted to get out."

"No, I didn't," he said softly. "When I thought I did, with Robin or Courtney or Sam or you, it wasn't real. I thought about it, talked about it, but never actually did it. Because I didn't know how. Because I didn't really want to. I liked what I did. I never wanted to stop, even when I said I did."

He sighed, not meeting her gaze though he knew she was watching him. Probably with more than a little accusation in her eyes. "I never left the business. Even when I gave it to Morgan so that he could run it, I never left. I stayed on and helped him control things, and I still thought of it as _mine_ because that's what it always was. I never left, Elizabeth. I had to be forced out. By my own kid."

He stared at the ocean as she stared at him, and finally, Elizabeth turned her gaze to the massive blue expanse as well.

"…I wish he'd get married."

That made him laugh, and the unexpected chortle surprised both of them. "Why?"

"I just want him to find a nice girl and marry her and build a life with her."

"What would that solve?"

"It would solve plenty," she insisted. "Look at Cameron. He's been with Molly for two years now. He's settled into a good place in his career, he has his own place, and you know it's only a matter of time before he asks Molly to marry him."

"Elizabeth, Jake and Cameron are two very different men."

She was silent for a moment after that. "…Maybe…if he found someone like Cameron found Molly, it would settle him. Calm him down. Make him less angry. Make him…"

"…want to leave the business?"

"Yeah."

Jason let out a heavy sigh as she idly traced her charcoal over the paper. "Maybe he _would_ want to leave the business if he got married. But I doubt it. I wanted to leave for a while when I started seeing Courtney. I planned on it. I tried it for a while but went back because leaving wasn't what I really wanted."

"But maybe if-"

"If Jake wanted to leave the business, he would. But it has to come from him. Even if someone else made him decide to leave, unless it came from inside him, it wouldn't stick. He'd come back to it. Or he'd be miserable until everything imploded."

"But the right woman-"

"A woman can change habits, Elizabeth. She can't change the person that a man really is."

They sat in silence for a long moment until something in the breeze shifted and Elizabeth tossed down her charcoal.

He glanced at the easel. "You don't want to draw anything?"

The paper bore no more than a large, loopy scribble, and Elizabeth shook her head. "I can't."


End file.
